


A Touch of Romance

by rhiannon15900



Series: The Larton Chronicles [4]
Category: The Professionals
Genre: A/U, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10064702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannon15900/pseuds/rhiannon15900
Summary: The story of a wedding, a pond and Bodie writing love letters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is by the author Rhiannon, who isn't on line; it's posted with her enthusiastic consent.
> 
> I'll pass on any comments/kudos to her.
> 
> Please let me know if you spot any typos, so I can correct them.  
> Hgdoghouse

THE LARTON CHRONICLES

FOUR

A TOUCH OF ROMANCE  
BY RHIANNON 

 

Mr Halliwell, standing outside the Savoy Hotel, gazed after the Merc now accelerating rapidly out of sight. "I did tell you it would be a mistake to put Mr Doyle on that table," he remarked to his host.

"I imagined Mr Doyle would have forgiven Arthur's lighthearted criticism of his book in the TLS by now," he replied.

"Mr Doyle," said Mr Halliwell, "may forgive, but he does not forget - ever." He glanced round as they were joined by another guest with a glass of gin and tonic in each hand.

"Raymond's gone then," he remarked vaguely. "Pity. I would have liked a chat with him. Not surprised he left, he did seem a little out of sorts."

"Yes," said Mr Halliwell. "I'm afraid problems with his current book are to blame. That and his trip to Ireland, especially when he came down with bronchitis."

"Bodie said they had a grand time," said Colonel Merryweather (Horse and Hound), absently sipping a gin and tonic. "Splendid weather for going out, he said."

"Mr Bodie's idea of a grand time," said Mr Halliwell, "involves a large horse, several miles of very rough country, preferably with high walls to jump over, and a well-stocked bar at the end of the day. Mr Doyle's does not.

"And Harold, if you don't need that spare gin and tonic, I do."

 

Doyle, driving at a speed and in a manner he would have deplored in his days in the Met., reflected that a day which had begun badly had more than lived up to its early promise. It had started with a row with Bodie, whose boisterous cheerfulness as he climbed into his breeches and boots for a day out with the Hunt had grated sorely on one forced to journey to London to waste his day with a pack of bloody poseurs.

Bodie, unsympathetically, had remarked that, "Ah ... you'll be sure to find someone to talk to. Harold will be there."

"Oh yes," Doyle had replied, "I'll really enjoy swopping yarns with the hunting correspondent of Horse and Hound. Have you any idea what it costs to keep those damned horses?"

"No," said Bodie, "but as you had the bank statement this morning, I'm sure you're going to tell me. Overdrawn again, am I?" he asked with supreme indifference.

After that the conversation had deteriorated. Doyle had left in a rage leaving Bodie, quite unperturbed, carefully pinning his stock. Then he had scraped the Merc trying to park it in an insufficient space; knowing that the cost of the repair would keep five healthy horses in food for six months didn't help. The dinner had been mediocre, and he had found himself sitting by Arthur Crabtree.

The rest, thought Doyle, is silence, and if I get home and find Bodie has broken his neck it will be the only bright spot in the day.

However, once out of London his spirits improved. There was a touch of autumnal sunlight on the fields; he even hooted benignly for Mrs Paget's eldest girl and her intended to move their entwined selves from the middle of the lane. It was going to be a pleasant evening. If Bodie had enjoyed a good run it usually put him in a warmly affectionate mood, and just what he needed, Doyle decided, was some good old-fashioned... He paused as a tractor edged past him in the lane, returned the driver's cheery wave and started up the farm lane. Funny, he didn't remember all those horses in their paddock. No doubt Bodie would have an explanation.

He parked the car and was greeted as he crossed the yard with Sam barking in his usual manic fashion.

There was a hell of a lot of noise from the kitchen. The passageway was filled with muddy discarded boots, jackets and saddles. From the kitchen came the sound of voices raised in loud and unmelodious song, with loud banging on the table at the choruses. He entered the kitchen - for one brief moment Doyle hoped it was all a bad dream as Bodie reeled round, cap on the back of his head, his muddy face wreathed in a wide grin, a half-empty magnum of champagne clutched to his chest.

"Ray! You're back early - have a drink," said Bodie happily. He waved the bottle unsteadily. "We are having a party," he continued.

Doyle gave him a 'look' and surveyed the scene. The kitchen was crammed with large muddy huntsmen consuming huge ham sandwiches which they were washing down with vintage champagne. Perched on the sideboard was a young person of the female gender who had been apparently beating time with her heels on the stripped pine. She quailed slightly at his look and got down.

"No, thank you," said Doyle coldly. "I'm going to lie down, I've had a very trying day."

He was also uneasily aware he was getting a migraine. There was a murmur of sympathy as he found his pills and, picking up his cat who was trying to eat a slice of ham almost bigger than himself, retired with dignity to his room. As he left the party started up again.

Just you wait, Bodie, he thought. He spent the next couple of hours, pillow over head, migraine raging, as people left with the maximum of noise, yelling, "We must do it again, Bodie", "Bye, Will", etc.

Oh God, thought Doyle, I'm really going to kill you in the morning, Bodie.

oOo

 

Next morning, after inspecting the depleted stock in the fridge, freezer and wine bin, this idea returned with even more force. Doyle marched into the kitchen all ready for a good fight. Bodie was just finishing his breakfast; to Doyle's annoyance he appeared completely unscathed by his debauchery.

"Morning," said Bodie. "Had a good time in London, did you?"

"No," said Doyle, "I did not. I fell out with Mr Halliwell, my publisher, and the bastard who arranged that damned luncheon, then I come home and find my kitchen packed with your unspeakable friends. What the hell were they doing here?"

"We had a terrific run," Bodie began. "Right up past Hogtrough Wood, then down by Graysons Pasture, then..." He caught Doyle's basilisk glare and hurried on: "We had a spot of trouble at the bank there. Bunty was thrown. By the time we had caught her horse, checked she was all right, and got Reg out of a bush, we were well behind. As we were near here, I thought why not stop for something to eat. And, well..." He shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't mind. What was wrong with the dinner then?" he inquired.

"Never mind that," said Doyle heavily. "I suppose Bunty was the young woman who has left her boot-marks all over that cupboard door. Bodie, how could you ever imagine I wouldn't mind having your bloodthirsty friends in my kitchen - you know how I feel about them. And they have cleared us out of food and drink for six months!"

Bodie put down his mug. "Now look, Ray, this is as much my home as yours. All they did was eat some food and drink some wine - which can be replaced. To hear you go on I invited Attila the Hun and his hordes in for a snack! I'm entitled to entertain my friends, you don't have to meet them. God knows, the mood you've been in lately, no-one would want to meet you."

This, as he should have known, if he cared, was hardly a conciliatory thing to say. After listening for a few moments to Doyle expressing himself on the subject of Bodie's friends, his activities, his bank statement, etc., etc., Bodie got up, said a few rude Irish words and departed towards the stables. Then the phone rang.

Doyle picked it up, still seething. After a few moments Mr Halliwell deduced that this was not a good time and remarked that he would ring back when Mr Doyle was in a more reasonable frame of mind. Mr Doyle, yelling down the phone, realised he had been cut off.

From the smell of Jeyes Fluid and sounds of brushing drifting from the stable yard it was apparent that Bodie was giving everything its good weekly clean down. On reflection, Doyle could think of several more bones of contention and made his way there. He found Bodie wellingtoned and happily whistling away as he sloshed water everywhere. The stalls were empty, their occupants kicking up their heels in the paddock.

"I hadn't finished," said Doyle aggressively. 

Bodie glanced at him thoughtfully and continued brushing.

Doyle then restarted his monologue (part two). He had just made a couple of really telling remarks when Bodie picked up the bucket in which he had just been washing his brush and threw the contents over him.

"Give it a rest, Doyle," he said wearily.

Doyle stared at him open-mouthed - mercifully it had been shut when he had been drenched - but a bucket of cold water containing a high percentage of Jeyes Fluid laced with a load of liquid yuck from the stable was enough to stop even him. He thought for a mad moment of a frontal assault but as Bodie's stance was saying 'go on, make my day', he dismissed the thought and retired to the house, squelching. By the time he had showered three times, washed his hair twice and put everything in soak, then had a steadying cup of coffee, he was ready to return to the stables and read Bodie the RIOT ACT.

However, all he found was the horses back in their stalls and Jos peacefully putting up hay-nets and settling them down.

"Afternoon, Mr Doyle," he said. "Thought I'd get the rugs on - it's starting to get colder now, isn't it? Anything you want me to do in the garden?" Jos also doubled as Doyle's jobbing gardener.

I'll see to Bodie later, Doyle decided, and began to discuss the vegetable garden. 

Later, Bodie not having reappeared for dinner, he checked the garage - no, his car was still there. So he is over at the farm or more likely propping up the bar in the Brewers. Blast him! He can't be on the night boat to Dublin, his wallet's still on the table, so that's something. Probably hoping I'm calming down - and I'm not!

 

The Earl of Bicester, entering the lounge bar of the Brewers, spotted his brother-in-law seated at a table gazing sadly at an empty glass. Pausing only to order a couple of whiskies at the bar, he made his way over to him.

"Hello, Will," he said cheerily. "Thought you'd be at home having dinner at this hour."

Bodie looked at him. "What about you, then?" he asked.

"Difficult," said Jack. "Need to give the old girl time to calm down. She's just had the bill from the garage. I told her, just because Mike's horse kicked the panel in is no reason to send him the bill."

"She disagreed," said Bodie. "Won't the insurance cover it?"

"Not again," said Jack gloomily, "or bang goes my no-claims bonus. Had words with Ray, have you? You didn't miss much after you left - only Tony breaking his arm again."

"He should go bionic," said Bodie. "I wouldn't worry about Ag, she's probably on the phone now to Clarissa telling her to get the cash out of him. He never could control that daft horse properly."

"It's not only that," said Jack mournfully. "She has this seminar on 'how to make your stately home less of a millstone and more of an asset'." He ran through the list of ladies there; it seemed Agnes had bagged almost everyone of note in Gloucestershire and even further north.

"I blame the Devonshires myself," said Jack obscurely. "She's one of the Mitfords, isn't she? Funny lot. But Agnes says we must do something with the recession - even the riding school isn't doing well."

"You're never thinking of opening to the public!" said Bodie. "There isn't anything to see."

Jack tried to look offended, then honesty triumphed. "Not a lot, no," he agreed. "Portrait gallery full of badly painted people you wouldn't want to meet on a dark night. Not even had an exciting history, the house..."

"Who says so?" said Bodie ordering another round and, after going through his pockets, asking Fred to put it on the slate.

"All the history books," said Jack. "Even the family ghost is unreliable."

"I didn't know you had one," said Bodie with interest.

"Um," said Jack. "A phantom coach is supposed to appear as the old earl dies. Only made it right twice in three hundred years."

"Must be British Rail," said Bodie and giggled. "Falling standards, that's what it is." He went on, "Well, what about poor Lady Gwendoline, who ran her unfaithful lover through then drowned herself and her baby in the moat?"

"What moat?" asked Jack, surprised.

"You had it filled in for the sake of the children," said Bodie happily.

"Did I?" said Jack. "Her spirit walks, does it?"

"Of course," said Bodie. "Two more doubles, please, Fred - some deep thinking is needed here."

The landlord sighed and made another note.

"What you need," said Bodie, "is a good scandal that will pack 'em in. Remember when Daphne Montpleasant ran off with that MFH? Cyril said they came pouring out to see his place - he was really thankful to The Sun, got quite cross when they stopped running the story. Best thing that happened to him last year."

"Frightful woman," agreed Jack. "The only scandal round here is you and Ray - and that won't bring 'em to my house. Besides, you know what Ray would be like."

"True," said Bodie sadly. "It isn't the same at all. Couldn't you get Agnes to run away with Colonel Heaton?"

"Do you mind," said Jack. "No good anyway - Alice wouldn't let him go."

Some time elapsed as they worked out even more improbable scenarios to raise money, then the landlord remarked - after putting even more on his lordship's slate - that he really ought to be closing, and should he ring Mr Doyle?

"No," said Bodie. "If Ray has locked me out, I'll just bounce a few stones off the tin roof of the shed - that will get him down."

"No!" said Jack. "You'd better come home with me. I don't want to read in the Larton Gazette about an 'orrible murder' after Ray takes an axe to you. You can tell me all about Lady Gwendoline's restless spirit on the way home."

Apart from the van's tendency to reverse suddenly without warning, which led to the sad demise of a harmless conifer in its tub - the landlord calmly putting the cost of a replacement on his lordship's slate - the journey back to the Hall was uneventful, apart from Jack failing  
to notice the lodge gates were shut. Mercifully he was driving at a reduced speed.

oOo 

"Ray, is that you?" Agnes inquired next morning.

"No," said Doyle, shortly. "Who else would be answering the bloody phone here at this hour?"

"I thought you might be worried with Will not getting home last night," Agnes explained.

"No," said Doyle, "and you can tell him I'm not putting up bail either. Damaged, is he?"

"Only by me," said Agnes. "They arrived home at about 2 a.m., very tight, after colliding with the lodge gates. Apparently Jack did not notice they were shut. Mrs Jackson has complained bitterly to me at being woken by two drunken hooligans in the early hours. Sadly they were unhurt but the van needs some repair. Then they started prowling round the house. Making plans, Jack said. He could not remember what for, exactly. Then he knocked over a suit of armour that has stood on that landing for a hundred and forty-five years. He said he had not seen it before. It sounded like five hundred saucepans all clattering down the stairs together. Woke the entire household. I got up to find Will hanging on the bannisters, half senseless, laughing, while Jack was yelling at him to stop and be quiet as he picked up pieces of plate armour. I hauled over and gave Will a lovely black eye. I know just what my guests thought and it will be all over Gloucestershire by now. What do you want me to do with Will - short of murder? Jack said you might not want him back. He is moaning 'Never again' in the gunroom. Will is eating a large breakfast in the kitchen. I hope he chokes on it."

"Ah," said Doyle. "Just hang on to him a while. I have things I want to do here and he will get in the way."

"Doesn't he always," said Agnes, with feeling.

Doyle sat pondering a while. As he saw it there was only one thing to do - he was going to leave Bodie. That would bring him to his senses, show him that he, Doyle, was not going to put up with his antics any longer. Then, when Bodie was in a properly repentant mood, he would return - yes - to a chastened and more considerate companion (he hurriedly quashed any doubts about this unlikely transformation), and he needed, too, to get that blasted book finished. It had gone on far too long and the constant interruptions here hadn't helped. He reached for the phone before he could change his mind.

 

Mr Halliwell listened with a strong feeling of incredulity as Mr Doyle expressed his passionate desire to leave the rural solitude of Gloucestershire for the sparkle and glamour of the Great City. He won't find it in Montague Place, he thought to himself.

"Well," said Mr Halliwell, "there is the flat at Montague Place. We have placed writers there in the past, it's very convenient for the British Museum Reading Room. But are you sure you want to come to London?"

Mr Doyle insisted he did, so they concluded the arrangements. Mr Halliwell informed his secretary that Mr Doyle would call for the flat keys and should be treated with caution.

"I don't think he will like it there," she said. "Edgar claimed it was haunted."

"It would take a very brave spirit to haunt Mr Doyle," said Mr Halliwell, wondering for a moment what Edgar could be 'on' now. "Now, I must be off or poor Muriel will think I have forgotten all about Paris."

oOo

On his return, two days later, Mr Halliwell found Mr Doyle seated in his outer office.

"Ah, Mr Doyle, the flat is satisfactory then?"

"No," said Doyle, "it's cheerless. I'm surprised that geyser hasn't killed anyone yet and the view is lousy. But it is convenient for the British Museum. And there is a very obscene ode stuck inside the wardrobe door, it doesn't scan well, either."

"You are at liberty to remove it," said Mr Halliwell. "Edgar, I expect. He always has problems with scansion."

"I've been having strange phone calls, too," Doyle went on. "Really weird..."

"That too," said Mr Halliwell obscurely. "I should just be rude to them. You are here to tell me chapter six is finished?" he asked hopefully.

"No," said Doyle, "and neither is chapter five. I came for my mail. I should have been some by now."

"Perhaps they are unaware of your new address?" Mr Halliwell suggested.

"I left a note," said Doyle. "It said plainly that I could be reached through my agent in case of any crisis."

"Of course," said Mr Halliwell. "Well, it's obvious no crisis has occurred."

For some reason Mr Doyle looked even more irritated at this cheering thought.

oOo

"He is still away then," said Agnes, looking about the kitchen at Larton. "This place always looks like a Household Cavalry doss-house when Ray isn't here."

She sat down, after first removing a stirrup iron, brush and dismantled bridle from the chair, and surveyed her brother with irritation. "You might have shaved today," she remarked.

Bodie, busily polishing a saddle, looked up. "Not for you," he said. "If you are staying, make me a couple of sandwiches."

The Countess of Bicester got up, found the bread knife, looked at it in a thoughtful manner for a moment, then made them two large sandwiches each and opened two cans of Guinness.

"He's working on the book," said Bodie. "He has to go to the British Museum all the time. He will be loathing it up there - he'll soon be back. Halliwell keeps me in touch. Ray's hoping I'll see the light - mend my ways and all that. I'm waiting for him to break down and write me for his spare underwear. He didn't take any and he's too mean to go out and buy more."

"Poor Ray!" said Agnes. "A gentleman would parcel some up and send it to him."

"Never!" said Bodie. "I'll teach him to leave me twelve-page letters listing my sins. Has no sense of humour does Ray, at times."

Agnes sighed. "As it happens," she said, "I have to go up to London to get Toby's school uniform - I'll deliver them. I would have liked Jack to go with me but you know how he is. I said to him Amelia Fitzsimmons' husband wouldn't dream of letting her go to London alone. He just said, 'I'm not surprised, she's a very stupid woman.'"

"She is," said Bodie. "All right, I can't stand the idea of him standing around waiting for his smalls to dry. But it was your idea."

"Yes," said Agnes, "I won't compromise your stand. Bloody idiot."

oOo

Agnes looked critically round the small cramped London flat. "I can't see how people can bear to live in places like this," she remarked.

"A lot of us have no choice," said Doyle. "Not everyone lives in Jacobean mansions."

"With dry rot and death-watch beetle everywhere," said Agnes, "and you don't have to live here either. Anyway, here is a change of underwear and some spare shirts. Will refused to tell me your favourites so I made a guess. Well, hello Amos, I didn't see you crouched there on the windowsill."

Amos raised a face tinged with despair and mewed piteously.

"Poor lamb," said Agnes. "Stuck here with only the filthy dome of the British Museum to look at - no wonder he is miserable. His fur has gone all limp."

"How did you find me?" asked Doyle. "I'm supposed to be at a secret address!"

"Oh, quite easily," said Agnes. "I just went round to your publisher and dropped a few names. He is a fearful snob, isn't he? Mentioned dear old Boko, my Godfather, and being at school with dear Diana Shrewsbury and Elsie Sligo."

"You didn't!" said Doyle. "I bet you've never set eyes on either of them."

"Of course I have," said Agnes. "We were all in the san together with mumps at my first boarding-school. And the last - Pa's luck with the gee-gees ran out as usual. On State occasions we still nod our coronets to each other."

"I didn't know you had a coronet," said Doyle, diverted.

"It spends most of its time in the bank," said Agnes, "so Jack can't sell it to buy some damned horse. Now, what are you doing this afternoon, Ray?"

"Why?" asked Doyle warily.

"I need an escort to afternoon tea - I thought Brown's would be rather nice. You look as though you could do with a bite of good food too - you're looking very peaky, Ray."

"I'm always looking peaky," said Doyle. "Now look here, Agnes... Oh, why not. You did bring my underwear and if I don't get out of here for five minutes I'll start twitching like Amos. I suppose all the well-connected will be there sipping delicately."

 

Agnes looked round Brown's appreciatively. "Pleasant to find everything so unchanged," she remarked.

"Except the prices," said Doyle, wincing as he consulted the menu. "I imagine you expect me to pay for this treat."

"I know you are too much of a gentleman to invite a lady out to tea and then expect her to pay," said Agnes. "Besides, after buying Toby's new school-clothes and getting all his name tabs in, I have precisely my return ticket and fifty-six pence in hand. The shop would not accept a cheque, we had a misunderstanding some years ago."

"All right," said Doyle, "go mad, order what you like. There are lots of weathered faces here."

"It's the Fatstock Show at Olympia," said Agnes. "Mr Stebbins was going to be here, and that awful man from Lower Gretton."

"Oh," said Doyle vaguely. He looked about then zeroed in on a dark-haired burly man at a far table - Bodie in his best going-to-town suit was engaged in serious conversation with a stunning young blonde. Agnes, noticing his concentration, looked over.

"Good heavens," she said, "what a coincidence. I wonder what they are doing here."

"Who," asked Doyle, his eyes flashing green, "is that woman with Bodie?"

"That's Elsie Sligo's daughter, Venus," said Agnes. "What a coincidence when I was just talking about her. They have a place in Galway. I wonder why she is over here."

"You never told me Bodie knew her," said Doyle. "Go on, tell me they met in their perambulators."

"Of course not," said Agnes. "She is young enough to be his daughter. They might be over here buying horses - her father is permanently glued to one. A frightful person. They seem to have noticed us."

Venus indeed seemed somewhat excited; Bodie was merely looking amused.

"It's all right," said Agnes. "She won't rush over until we have eaten. Elsie was very strict on manners with her bunch."

Doyle decided he could put off throttling Bodie till after he had eaten the superlative afternoon tea being laid before him. His appetite seemed to have been stimulated by the sight of his companion squiring a blonde in a public place. Agnes watched with approval as he demolished his tea with extra cream on the fruit fool.

"Coffee?" she inquired.

"Yes, with liqueurs, I think," said Doyle. "I wonder who is paying for their meal."

"It won't be Venus," said Agnes. "Like my family, hers is poor but well-connected. William will probably stroll over and borrow the money from you.

"Er, Ray, I think this young lady wishes to speak to you ..."

Doyle looked up - and up. A veritable Amazon gazed down at him; one of his books was clutched to her bosom.

"Mr Doyle," she said shyly, "I hope you don't mind, I know you are a very private person - but Will thought, just this once, you would not mind autographing my book?"

She gazed down at him in rapture. Doyle thought it was quite delightful.

"Sit down, please," he said, melting. "I'll be happy to do so. Oh, it's my murder mystery. Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I couldn't find it in Galway, so as soon as I got to London I dashed round to Waterstone's and bought it. I'm afraid I've been reading it under the table. Will said if I didn't stop, he would tell me whodunit."

"Tell him from me," said Doyle, "that if he does I will personally come over and thump him! Now, what would you like?" He wrote quickly.

Venus looked at the inscription, blushed, then beamed at him. "You're very kind," she said.

"Now," said Agnes firmly, "I think we will take our coffee in the lounge all together. I know you and Will have a lot to talk about, Ray, and Venus and I have news to catch up on, I'm sure."

Doyle opened his mouth to dispute this. He received a quelling look. Bodie, she knew, would not start an argument in a public place and it was that or accompany them to the coffee lounge. They capitulated and went.

"This is very pleasant," said Agnes, regally handing round coffee cups. "Now, Venus, is your dear mother with you? What brings you to London?"

"No," said Venus sadly, "she is in hospital with her leg in traction after her horse fell last week. Papa was very annoyed - he had to call off the hunt to fetch an ambulance. And she was so looking forward to coming to London."

Doyle looked away hastily.

"I can imagine," said Agnes. "Poor Elsie. And...?"

"I'm getting married!" said Venus. "Didn't you know? Papa finally gave me permission to marry dear Egerton. We can't get married in Galway so I'm getting married from his Aunt Lizzie's house in Edwardes Square. She is very nice. But with Mama being in hospital and Con and Felix refusing to set foot in England, and Papa is much too busy, I had to come over on my own. I've left my big luggage at Paddington Station. My trunk should be at the house. Only, Egerton was supposed to meet me there and he didn't, and the house is all locked up. So I went down to the Palace hoping to see him, and met William. There was a dreadful man pestering me - William dealt with him." She gazed with shining eyes at her hero. Doyle sighed.

"Quite," said Agnes. "I'm sure we can work something out. Now, dear, where are you getting married?"

Doyle's curiosity got the better of him. "And where was Egerton?" he asked Bodie.

"Changing guard at Buckingham Palace," said Bodie promptly. "I found her glued to the railings trying to attract his attention. As he was going purple under his busby, I removed her after giving him a nod. Then I took her for a sandwich and coffee."

"Didn't her mother warn her about men like you?" said Doyle. "And what were you lurking round Buck House for? Oh, not that damned horse bookshop!"

"Of course," said Bodie. "I'm now guarding her till Egerton comes off duty. I couldn't leave her alone in London - she has the brain of a peafowl. She has rattled on about her frock and the wedding for hours, pausing only to read your book. She told me you were her ideal man - handsome, gentle, sensitive, with spiritual inner depths. I couldn't disillusion her."

"How gratifying that someone has finally noticed," said Doyle. "I think she is sweet. What's Egerton like then?"

"You would," said Bodie. "He is a six-foot-four officer in the Grenadiers with a bad temper and no spiritual inner depths I've ever noticed. He's a distant cousin of mine."

"Who isn't," said Doyle. "I was going to thump you - now I'm not sure you don't deserve a drink."

"I do," said Bodie as they moved towards the bar. "And make it a double, will you? I'm getting short of money - that's the third meal she has packed away today."

"Well, she's a big girl," said Doyle, collecting their drinks. "Does Egerton know what he is taking on?"

"He should do," said Bodie. "He's known her since she was in pinafores - another relative. He has been trying to get Giles's consent for some time. Giles kept saying he would rather see poor Venus dead at his feet than marrying a British Army officer. Well, he's the biggest oppressor of the peasantry in that part of the country! I wish Egerton would get here, I left a note we would be at Brown's. I've had to see off three would-be suitors already - it's tiring."

"So why are you in London?" asked Doyle. "No horse show on, is there?"

"Mrs Paget started a great clear-out," said Bodie. "She had Jos up in the attics getting down stuff I've never seen before. I decided to escape before she could rope me in. Then Fred Stebbins said would I like to help him with forms at Olympia - he hates filling 'em in. So I got a ride on his truck down, sorted the paperwork out, then thought I'd get some books and call on you."

"To apologise, of course," said Doyle. "No, I thought not. You know, this morning I said to myself, 'Oh shit, another boring day on the book.' It's turned out quite exciting."

"How's it coming along then?" asked Bodie, enjoying his whisky.

"So-so," said Doyle wearily. "I spend all my days in the British Museum Reading Room. It's a cheerless place - smells of old ghosts, and the weirdest people pop in. Look, would you take Amos back with you, he's not happy here. I can't even take him for walks in Hyde Park, it's full of rabid Rottweilers."

"Sure," said Bodie. "Sam's been grizzling about the place missing him. I'd like to take you back with me too, Ray! Come on, you're miserable as sin down here."

"No, I can't," said Doyle. "Too busy with the book - blast it! Isn't that Ag trying to attract our attention? Probably afraid I might slip off and stick her with the bill."

"Egerton is on the phone," said Agnes. "Venus has just gone to speak to him."

Venus appeared looking tearful. "He would like to speak to you," she said to Agnes with a sniff, then trailed after her back to the phone.

"Risky, calling a daughter Venus, I would have thought," said Doyle. "She could have looked like the back of a bus. Classical scholar, her old man?"

Bodie snorted. "Her grandfather had a passion for Greek sculpture. The castle grounds are full of naked stone ladies coyly clutching towels. They thought he might leave some extra cash their way - he didn't."

"You never took me there," said Doyle. "I might have enjoyed it."

"You would not," said Bodie. "Your patience was wearing thin enough - Giles Burke would have snapped it."

"Aah - another grand hard-riding mick like yourself then, is he?" Doyle asked.

"No," said Bodie, "more of an utter swine. I can't stand the man."

They could hear Agnes saying in the tones in which she browbeat her family: "Now look here, Egerton Coghill..."

There was the sound of a phone being put down with force then she rejoined them, a tearful Venus in tow.

"It seems," said Agnes, "that Egerton is unable to contact his Aunt Lizzie and what is more has been seconded to shoot at Bisley over the next few days. Some fool has broken his arm and cannot compete. He has asked me to take care of Venus till we can hand her over to Aunt Lizzie. Now, we need somewhere to stay for the night. My last train has gone and Venus cannot stay in London alone. Where were you planning to sleep, William?"

Bodie started, blushed, then muttered oh, he was going to bed down with the cows and Fred at Olympia.

"I'm sure you would all have been very happy," said Doyle, his tone amused till he realised all eyes were on him.

"No!" he said firmly. "There is barely room in the flat for me! Hasn't anyone got any money?

"Well," he continued, looking at their accumulated wealth, "we have just about enough for fish and chips four times, but that is it! Agnes, do you know a decent, reasonably priced hotel that will take you and Venus? I'll put the bill on my card."

"Jack will pay you back," said Agnes with relief.

"He will indeed," said Doyle. Behind him, Bodie cleared his throat. "Yes, you too," said Doyle wearily. "To guard the ladies. I expect Olympia will be closed by now. Wouldn't want to upset the cows. Now, Agnes, what shall it be?"

"The Shaftesbury, of course," said Agnes.

 

Venus looked round happily. "Oh, isn't it cosy," she said.

"I'd no idea places like this still existed," said Doyle. "And if anyone says, 'Ooh, it's just like Dickens', I'll..."

"Oh, but it is, isn't it," said an enraptured and totally unknown American lady to him. "Just what I was hoping for. Are you up from the country too? Nearly everyone else here seems to be. I'm Mrs Bradshaw."

"Doyle," said Doyle. He glanced round for his party; they appeared to be opening negotiations for sandwiches and coffee at reception. "Yes, I am," he replied. "Is this your first visit?"

By the time the others returned, coffee and sandwiches on the way, Doyle had got round to viewing Mrs Bradshaw's family photographs of the farm back in Iowa, her grandchildren, etc., etc.

"The Shaftesbury - still an oasis of peace and stability in this dreadful city," said Agnes. She then briskly took over Mrs Bradshaw and began to arrange a more interesting itinerary for her. Doyle shook his head and looked for Bodie, whom he found ordering drinks for everyone at the bar.

"Don't go raving mad," said Doyle. "I intend to extract every penny of this later. This place is a time warp. I've never heard of it."

"The county stay here when they come up to London," said Bodie. "People tell their grandchildren about it. Agnes is going to ring Giles after we have eaten - in case he is worried about Venus."

"Is he likely to be?" said Doyle.

"Not at all," said Bodie. "But her mother could be. I'll pay you back as soon as my army pension cheque arrives - it's due next week."

"You will have spent it before you get it," said Doyle. "As usual."

"Not to worry," said Bodie. "Something will turn up."

"You," said Doyle, shaking his head, "are a great trial to me, Bodie."

"Ah, but you couldn't do without me," said Bodie confidently.

"Ah, but I'm trying," said Doyle. "I see you've ordered for me and Mrs Bradshaw."

"I thought Eugenie would like to try a port and lemon," said Bodie.

"Eugenie!" said Doyle. "You've only known her ten minutes!"

They returned to the lounge just in time to hear Agnes concluding some very spirited remarks to the father of the bride. She sighed with satisfaction as she replaced the phone.

"How could you dare to speak to Papa like that?' gasped Venus, looking at her in awe.

"I've known Giles Burke since he was a very nasty little boy in short trousers," said Agnes. "He needs squashing badly."

"Atta girl!" said Bodie, waving her arm aloft.

"Drinking, William?" she remarked. "Come on, Ray, have some of these excellent sandwiches."

As he was paying for them Doyle did, refusing another drink on the grounds that: "I have to get back to Bloomsbury and my cat," he explained. "It's getting late."

"Go and get him," said Bodie expansively. "He will love it here - we can have a party. You just have to get his basket. Come on, Ray, do you good, too!"

Doyle, gazing into bright blue eyes, felt himself weaken, against his better judgement. He was about to twitter on about serious work to do when: "I'd love to meet your cat, Mr Doyle," said Venus. "Papa doesn't like cats. He drowns kittens." Her eyes brimmed.

"Does he?" said Doyle. "I can see why you kept me away from Giles," he said to Bodie.

Oddly enough, after another gin and tonic, this seemed a rather sensible idea - the hotel saying of course they would welcome a well-behaved, pleasant cat; they even had a small secluded garden at the back he might care to wander in.

Doyle then found himself careering to and fro across London by taxi to collect Amos who, once out of the flat, brightened considerably; even more so when he was presented with a plate of delicious fish scraps from the kitchen on his arrival at the hotel.

The party had started by then, other guests mostly with county accents and well-weathered faces were joining in and, Doyle noted thankfully, were buying their own drinks. Bodie was playing the piano badly while Venus sang Bring Me A Shawl From Galway very nicely. Doyle settled on a chintz-covered sofa, joined presently by Amos washing his whiskers in a satisfied manner. As Doyle had spotted some smoked salmon skin among the scraps, he was not surprised and hoped this would not give Amos a taste for expensive luxuries. In a corner Agnes was demonstrating Irish step dancing, joined presently by her brother as an exuberant partner.

Doyle was about to suggest that they kept the noise down, when a full glass was placed in his hand.

"Have this one on me, Mr Doyle," said a gentleman from Yorkshire.

"Thank you," said Doyle.

"That's a fine cat you have there," said the gentleman, chucking Amos under the chin. "Enjoys a party, does he?"

"Yes, he does," said Doyle. "He's missed them, staying here."

"They don't have proper parties here," said Joe (from Bradford). "No idea how to enjoy themselves properly. In Bradford now..."

Doyle, watching the goings-on, thought they were not doing too badly down here. Any moment now, he thought, some idiot will say, 'Let's all have a singsong' and we'll all be out in the street. I can see the headlines: Famous (well, fairly well-known) writer, two titled ladies, textile manufacturer from Bradford, innocent American tourist, drunken Irish soldier and sundry others evicted from respectable hotel for causing a disturbance at 1 a.m. 'Charges will follow,' said police. Writer described as drunk in charge of pedigree Persian cat.'

"Let's have a singsong," said a happy voice.

Much, much later Venus looked at Bodie, her eyes shining with happiness. "I don't care that Papa says you are a complete bastard, William," she said. "I think you are lovely." She then flung her arms round his neck and collapsed on his shoulder. Doyle was delighted to see him stagger slightly.

"Yes," said Agnes. "It's time to leave, Venus dear."

With an expertise honed on hauling paralytic brothers, and occasionally her spouse, out of trouble, she guided Venus out of the room. Reluctantly the party began to break up. Doyle said good night - or more correctly good morning - to his now firm friend from Bradford, then detached Bodie from a sideboard to which he appeared to be glued, chuckling softly to himself, draped Amos over his shoulder like a wet sack and hauled them all up the stairs. He had long given up worrying about the bill, or the hotel's reaction to their festivities. The fact they had laid on more sandwiches and coffee at an unearthly hour - and had that little waitress from Rochdale really demonstrated a clog dance? - perhaps that had been a good sign.

To his relief Bodie, once in their room, had collapsed on one of the beds and gone out like a light. Doyle removed his boots and tie, and then just managed to do the same for himself.

oOo

Doyle had only been asleep a moment, it seemed, when he was awakened by the sound of a coffee cup reverberating in its saucer like a Spanish dancer. Bodie was holding it out to him with a shaking hand.

"Tell me," he asked, "did I really hear someone singing When Irish Eyes Are Smiling last night with a strong Yorkshire accent?"

"Yes," said Doyle weakly. "That was Joe. He's in textiles - nice fella. Can you remember singing that song about the starving match seller Poor Old Dan From Connemara?"

"I must have been gone," said Bodie. "Did it go down well?"

"You had Venus and half the room in tears," said Doyle. "The rest were singing along in the chorus. You were about to embark on the Shan Van Vocht when I persuaded you otherwise."

"Thank God," said Bodie. He dropped an alka seltzer in a glass and winced as it fizzed.

"Where did you get that?" asked Doyle. "Make one for me, will you? I think I'm dying so just go away and let me get on with it peacefully."

"You can't!" said Bodie. "There will be another day to pay on the room and the taxi will be here at twelve to take us all to Edwardes Square."

Doyle shot upwards then grabbed his head. "I am not," he said, when he was able, "putting the rental of a house in Edwardes Square on my card - it won't stand it!"

"Of course you're not," said Bodie. "It's Aunt Lizzie's house. We are all going there to get ready for the wedding."

Doyle gave up trying to remember what wedding. "We?" he inquired carefully. "That's we as in...?"

"Agnes, Venus and Miranda and Bessie when they get up here. Jack, too, if they can drag him away," said Bodie. "Not me. I'm heading home with Amos before Ag can rope me in for anything. If I were you, I'd..."

"Don't tell me any more!" said Doyle. "Just go away and I'll get dressed."

He forced down a cup of coffee, signed the bill, averting his eyes from the total which he couldn't see anyway. Perfect strangers came up and said what a lovely party it had been and to his surprise the hotel said do come again, to his surprise. A gentleman from Bradford gave him his card - and an invite to visit. Then they all piled into a taxi. Doyle began to feel extremely unwell, and dimly heard Agnes saying, after she had extracted the money for the fare from his wallet, "No, William, he needs to lie down quietly."

Doyle found himself making a sudden detour to a providential, if unknown, bathroom which appeared before him. 

 

Doyle next surfaced, sans nausea and headache and feeling vaguely hungry, on a large Victorian sofa in an over-decorated room. There was a heavy weight on his feet - it was Amos, purring happily. The door opened and Agnes entered quietly.

"Oh, good," she said, "awake at last. And you look much better!"

"In my books," said Doyle, "at this point the hero says, 'Where am I?' but I presume this is Edwardes Square. Where is Aunt Lizzie?"

"St Mary's Nursing Home," said Agnes. "The excitement of the wedding was all too much for her. I have been to see her and will be taking over the arrangements - we are distantly connected on my father's side. I want to see poor Elsie's only daughter married properly! And..."

There was a knock at the door. Miranda peeped round it.

"Miranda," said Agnes, "make a light lunch for Mr Doyle. Nothing rich. What is your grandmother doing?"

"Playing cribbage with Uncle William in the kitchen," said Miranda. "She said to tell you she has her hat on and is awaiting orders!"

"I'd better see to them," said Agnes grimly. "William isn't here to enjoy himself."

Doyle felt the thread escape him again. Miranda eventually returned with a light lunch and the news that Bessie, as the Dowager Countess was known to her grandchildren, had departed to the caterers, while her mother was on the phone 'giving orders'. Bodie had left with Bessie who had a 'thing' about him. Lord Bicester, he gathered, was standing firm and flatly refusing to join his wife in London for the wedding. As he was notorious among his fellow backwoods peers for his refusal to move more than ten miles from his country seat, this was not surprising. A Fanshaw had made the grave error in 1643 of riding out in support of King Charles and since then, apart from gallantly but reluctantly serving their country overseas when called on to do so, they had resolutely stuck to their ancestral acres.

"It is very annoying of Jack," said Agnes when she joined Doyle later. "I could have done with him to give the bride away. He was just the same over poor Hermione's wedding - we had to have Uncle Clarence in the end and he's, well..."

"Potty," said Miranda. "He has an Indian spirit guide called White Eagle."

"He is not potty!" said Agnes. "He is just a trifle... eccentric. Ah, there you are, Will..." She stared speculatively at her brother. He shifted uneasily.

"Now," said Agnes decisively, "as you will be giving the bride away, Will, you need to have your dress uniform cleaned and pressed. As this is Venus's great day, I will also expect you to behave fitting the occasion."

"I am not giving any bride away," said Bodie in a dangerously calm voice. "For one thing, remember, I wear a green uniform with Sons of the Fianna on my cap badge. I'll be lucky not to be arrested at the Guards Chapel door! Ask Charles - at least he is in the right army!"

"I did," said Agnes. "He said he had better things to do than give away Giles Burke's halfwitted daughter. Then Winifred chipped in and said we had insulted Charles with the very suggestion and did we want to ruin his career?"

"My God!" said Bodie. "I'll do it! I'll need permission to wear it, and I'm not sure I can get back into the thing, and I've passed my sword on to young Denis, but..."

"You will have to see about borrowing another then, won't you," said Agnes, a 'don't bother me with trifles' note in her voice.

Bodie, muttering darkly, took himself off to the kitchen. Doyle reluctantly took his leave, giving Amos, now being firmly packed into his cat carrier by Bodie ready for his trip home, an affectionate farewell. He also fitted in a quick lecture about being sure to clear the rubbish behind the greenhouse, and get the bins out for the 'men' to Bodie, who didn't appear to be listening but insisted on an affectionate farewell for himself. Montague Place seemed more cheerless than ever on his return there.

oOo

A couple of days later Doyle staggered back from the London Library loaded with books. He'd given up on the British Museum Reading Room, convinced they were pumping alien gases into the atmosphere there to destroy his mind. He was surprised to find a tastefully engraved wedding invitation on his mat - now when did Agnes think he would have time to go to weddings?

Mr Halliwell who had called, more in hope than anticipation, to see how work was progressing, picked it up.

"What a stroke of luck!" he enthused. "This will make excellent publicity for the book!"

"You're mad!" said Doyle. "I'm not going."

"Of course you are," said Mr Halliwell. "It's perfect. The bride is the daughter of one of Ireland's premier earls and very well-connected. From the reported guest list, half the peerage will be there. It will help to dispel rumours you are doing one of those hatchet jobs."

Doyle glared at him. At that moment the door phone went and informed him a Lady Miranda Fanshaw was below and craved admittance. Doyle groaned and said send her up.

Miranda staggered in loaded with carrier bags, one of which had burst, its contents endeavouring to escape. Mr Halliwell relieved her of the most at risk.

"Thank you," said Miranda. "It gave way, I'm afraid."

Doyle introduced them and went to make coffee in his minute kitchen. When he returned, Miranda had opened a box of shortbread and was discussing the works of Mr Norman Thelwell, whom she held in high regard, with Mr Halliwell.

"Uncle William brought your best suit up," she remarked to Doyle. "Mother is having it cleaned and pressed. Uncle William has permission to wear his uniform. He is borrowing a sword from the attaché at the Irish Embassy - they are pleased he has been invited."

"He's lucky to be invited anywhere," said Doyle. "And leave some of that shortbread for me! I haven't said I'll go yet."

"But it will be fun," said Miranda. "Everyone will be there. I do hope Great Aunt Œone can come - she is wonderful. Uncle William will be up on Thursday for the rehearsal. Now, I must be off for my dress fitting."

"Excuse me," said Mr Halliwell, "but I have my car outside, could I drive you?"

Doyle, aware that Mr Halliwell was clearly appalled that any twelve-year-old, no matter how self-possessed, was whisking all over London on her own, nodded to Miranda.

"He is all right," he said. "He has a daughter of your age himself."

"Yes, indeed," said Mr Halliwell, "but my Polly has red hair. Takes after her mother - she is Irish too, comes from West Meath."

"Thank you," said Miranda. "I wonder if she knows Great Uncle Brian. He is really strange..."

They went off discussing some of the weirder members of the Bodie clan. Doyle began to wonder if leaving his home, if not Bodie - and he was already having second thoughts there - had been a good idea after all. There at least he could work in peace, most of the time anyway.

oOo

Finally, a day or two later, surfacing after a weary night of checking references, swearing, making new notes, cross-checking, etc., Doyle made his way to his kitchen to brew some life-giving caffeine. With luck it might just keep him awake long enough to finish this batch of references.

The door phone went. Bodie had arrived up from the country - it couldn't be that late, could it? Yes, it could. Doyle let him in and pointed to the kitchen.

"Help yourself," he said. "Came up on the milk train, did you?"

"Pretty well," said Bodie. "Socks, as requested, cake from Alice - she is minding Sam and Amos for us - and Agnes expects you at 9 a.m. sharp tomorrow at 32 Edwardes Square. She has had your suit pressed to her satisfaction."

"Oh God," said Doyle, "I'd managed to forget the wedding. Didn't I hear something about you looking for a sword?" He slumped into a chair looking, Bodie thought, a red-eyed wreck, sitting there yawning.

"I wouldn't look dressed without it in the uniform," said Bodie. "I'd passed it on to Denis, being a family one. He's at Sandhurst now." He waited for the usual sarky remark. It didn't come. Ray must be really down, he decided.

"It's okay, though," he went on. "Military attaché at the Irish Embassy is lending me his. Still going to be tricky - dead embarrassing if I'm arrested at the chapel door with that great girl on my arm ..."

"That's not funny!" said Doyle.

"No," Bodie agreed, "but you look like you need a laugh. It's all right, I had tea with Egerton's commanding officer after the rehearsal. Soldiers understand each other - it's the bloody politicians and cowboys who screw things up. Wasn't sure I'd be able to get back into the uniform either, it's a very snug fit in some parts."

"Always said spending long hours in the saddle was broadening your beam," said Doyle, grinning.

"Ah, but it's done wonders for my thigh muscles," said Bodie, with what could only be called a lascivious smirk on his face.

Doyle squirmed. "And you can forget that!" he ordered. "It's too early and I'm too exhausted - and we are separated, in case you have forgotten!"

"Rubbish!" said Bodie briskly. "Here, Ashley took some photos of the garden a while ago. You haven't seen them yet."

Doyle looked through them slowly. "Everything has grown," he said. "Including Ashley."

"I took that one," said Bodie. "He's very proud of that damned bed of onions. Ray, what's the matter?"

"Ah, nothing," said Doyle. "I was just up late checking references ..."

"Oh yes," said Bodie. "You haven't been to bed at all, you look bloody awful. Tell me what needs to be done. I can take notes for you - done it before, remember?"

Doyle looked at him, then pushed over a pile of books and a heap of A4 paper.

"It's all there," he said, "just copy over the references where I have stuck slips in, make a note of page numbers. Oh, you know. Anything you're not sure of, make a note. I just need to get my head down for a few hours."

"Go!" said Bodie. "I know your system. I'll wake you about three."

Doyle opened his mouth to argue, then turned and headed bedward.

 

Later, in the early evening, having been persuaded that his schedule would not be completely ruined if he actually stopped to eat, they went out for a meal.

"Not a patch on yours," said Bodie as he demolished a large plate of pasta at a recommended restaurant near the flat.

"True," said Doyle, "but passable. I'm glad you rescued me now. I was beginning to go stir-crazy at that flat - kept forgetting what day it was. I even missed David's birthday."

"No, you didn't," said Bodie. "I sent the usual donation off to the children's hospital."

"Thank you," said Doyle. "How bad is tomorrow going to be?"

"Well," said Bodie, "just look upon it as interesting copy for you. Agnes will be wearing the dreadful straw hat and costume she has worn for every family event in the last ten years at least. I'll be escorting a young lady who, with her heels on, is six inches taller than I am, and we will have Miranda and an eight-foot train behind us. Last I heard, they were still trying to sober up the best man - and some very odd relations are appearing out of the woodwork."

"I'm worried you might not be joking," said Doyle. "Jack, I take it, is still refusing to make an appearance?"

"Said he would shoot himself in the foot if necessary," said Bodie. "He's never forgiven Agnes for dragging him away on that Swiss holiday against his better judgement - and you know what happened there."

 

"Thank goodness that's over!" said Agnes, back at 32 Edwardes Square after the wedding.

She carefully removed her antique straw, secured to her head with about ten hatpins, and then kicked off her shoes. "How do you think it went, Ray?" she inquired.

Doyle, settled comfortably in a vast overstuffed armchair with a plate of spare sandwiches and a glass of flat champagne, looked up.

"Like most weddings," he said. "Great time for everyone but the bride and groom. They just looked concussed. I'll never forget that wonderful woman with the seagull on her hat and the fox fur tippet with the Attic smile."

"Great Aunt Œone," said Agnes. "Yes, there was no stopping her. I was terrified Miranda would catch sight of that bird."

"Bodie did," said Doyle happily. "He sort of quivered then kept his eyes straight ahead. Kept losing his place in the prayer book, too. I have to say, his speech was mercifully brief - pity your Uncle Fred's wasn't. By the way, wasn't that Mrs Bradshaw dancing with Bodie at the reception, gazing up at him with a moonstruck expression?"

"Yes," said Agnes. "Sickening, isn't it, the effect he has on sensible women? I knew she would enjoy the wedding, so I asked Aunt Lizzie. She said, 'Invite who you like, dear.' She and Great Aunt Œone hit it off right away, I thought they would. An admirer of Aunt's has given her use of his suite at the Savoy, so they have gone there with Bessie - to make a night of it, they said."

Doyle raised his glass to the ladies. "I wish I had an admirer with a suite at the Savoy," he remarked.

Agnes looked at him. "I don't know about you," she said, "but as soon as Will gets back from the station - and please God he puts the happy couple on the right train to Scotland - I'm going to join Miranda in the kitchen for some supper and an early night. She is very thrilled with the 'Thelwell' Mr Halliwell gave her. It was very kind of him to have it personally signed for her. Did you meet his Polly at the reception? She seems a very nice child; she will be at school with Miranda next term. It was such a relief that William could help us with the fees. Ah, that's Will now."

Bodie entered. "All safely off," he said. "Venus said to thank you so much for organising her wedding so beautifully, between sobbing on Egerton's shoulder, that is. He said, 'Oh dash it, Venus!' and to tell you, you are a real sport."

"Wonderful," said Agnes. "Still, he does seem very fond of her. Miranda looked sweet, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did," said Doyle. "I was wondering how long it would take you to break down and admit it."

Agnes permitted herself a moment of maternal pride. "I'm off then," she said. "Just some clearing up in the kitchen. You can look after yourselves, I'm sure."

"She's enjoyed every moment of it," said Doyle. "More women like Agnes and we would have kept the Empire."

"Damn the Empire," said Bodie, "you might have kept Ireland. What have you got there?" He took a sip of Doyle's champagne. "Flat," he said.

"Sandwich?" asked Doyle. "That side's smoked salmon, this side's some sort of paté, I think. It's very good anyway. Bessie seems to have over-ordered, bless her. She went to the Savoy with Great Aunt Œone and your friend Mrs Bradshaw. Going to make a night of it, they said."

"A thought to ponder over," said Bodie. "What did you think of the wedding? I saw you chatting to Egerton - you were looking stunned."

"Well," said Doyle, "his remarks about his beloved's family, apart from her mother, were quite actionable. Is it true Giles traded Venus in for the price of a new hunter?"

"Probably," said Bodie. "But as she has been mooning over Egerton for years, it's worth it. Surprised to see you up on your feet dancing for once - and with the bride."

"Lovely girl," said Doyle. "Hope it turns out all right. I noticed you and Mrs Bradshaw whooping it up, too."

"Eugenie," said Bodie. "Yeah, icing on the cake that wedding was, her last big event before going back to the farm. She told me she had a marvellous time trotting round stately homes - more than lived up to her expectations."

There was a snort from Doyle. "She will hardly have seen the real England, trotting round damp stately homes here and in Ireland, hobnobbing with the shooting and huntin' set," he remarked acidly. "Going home with a sickly sentimental, rosy view."

"She was here on holiday," said Bodie after a pause, "not to write a thesis on deprivation in the inner cities. I get really pissed off with you, Doyle. Just like to rub people's noses in the dirt, you do. She's worked bloody hard all her life and has this romantic view of a Helen Allingham England. It's not hurting anyone. So why spoil it for her?"

"Wow!" said Doyle. "You're in a sharp mood. Have a sandwich. I began to get worried in the church, they played 'Here comes the bride' twice - and she didn't. What was up?"

"Pre-wedding nerves in the porch," said Bodie. "She's very young, after all, and suddenly wondered if Egerton might turn out like dear Papa. I told her no-one could be as lousy as dear Papa. Then had a couple of stiff words with Egerton about the need for patience etc."

"Hum," said Doyle, "I can't quite see you as a marriage counsellor - hardly had much experience, have you?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Bodie. "Living with you has been a real education."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Doyle sat up sharply and spilt champagne down his sleeve.

"Blast!" he said. "Don't know what's with you all tonight - I had Agnes going on to me earlier about the need for tolerance. Seemed to think I lacked it. So I told her my views - she didn't seem to be listening."

"Surprise, surprise," said Bodie. "I expect, like me, she knows them off by heart. Look, Ray, I'm not giving way on this. If I want a couple of friends in for a chat and a couple of drinks, I'm going to do it. You don't have to meet them, or even approve of them. I'll be tactful and pick a time when you're out, but that's it."

Doyle was silent a moment, then shrugged. "Suppose I do go on a bit. Ag says I must have been some ghastly minor prophet in another existence, the sort who goes round crying 'Woe unto Israel' and all that stuff. Oh, sit down. I'm getting a crick in my neck looking up at you."

Bodie settled on the rug by his chair. "You're looking very pensive tonight," he remarked.

"Champagne's getting to me," said Doyle. "I'm even seeing you through a rosy glow - can't even be bothered to quarrel. You looked fine, by the way."

"Glamour of the uniform," said Bodie. "My Sam Browne belt was killing me. Must take Mick's sword back tomorrow. Why don't you join me down here - bring the sandwiches with you. Any more champagne?"

"Why not?" said Doyle. "It's in the kitchen. I haven't the strength to walk out there and get it. On the table," he added as Bodie departed kitchenwards. 

He returned saying good night to Agnes in the hallway.

"Good night, Ray," said Agnes. "Don't forget to put the lights out. And bank up that fire."

"Ta," said Doyle, accepting another full glass. "So, when are you off on that horse-buying spree of yours?"

"Monday week," said Bodie. "I'm not looking forward to any of it - they insist we use a helicopter for part of the trip. Terrible waste of money. We could buy two more horses with the cost of the thing. I can't stand 'em. I should have time to call on Oonagh - I'll get you some plants from her garden."

"An old girlfriend of yours, is she?" said Doyle, cuddling amiably.

"She's a darlin'," said Bodie. "Pity she was away when we were trotting round the bogs."

"Don't remind me," said Doyle. "Oh, what's the use! Come here, blast you ..."

 

"I hate to spoil a tender moment," said Bodie, some time later, "but could you shift a little? My arm's gone dead."

Doyle, grumbling, shifted then started to sort himself out. "I'm going to have a terrible crick in my back tomorrow," he complained. "It's no good - we'll have to wait till we are home in a decent bed. Passion on the rug isn't a good idea at our age."

"I think it's a splendid idea at any age!" said Bodie. "Not my fault you went and banged your head on the coal scuttle."

Doyle began to giggle, joined by his companion. "It's not funny!" he gasped finally. "Come on, help me up. My leg's got cramp now. I'll never make it back to Montague Place, I'll just settle on that sofa."

"I can give you a hand to my large Victorian four-poster with curtains," said Bodie. "Can you carry the sandwiches, or shall I come back for them after I've hauled you upstairs?"

"We are not going to hold an orgy up there," said Doyle. "No, you'd better come back for them - and see if there is anything else in the fridge. Come on, help me up those damned stairs."

oOo

"Great heavens!" said Mr Halliwell. "You must have a couple of tons of paper piled up here."

"And every last bloody shred important notes!" said Doyle. "I give up, I surrender, I can't take this place any more. Another week and I'll be as barmy as Edgar. The London Library will post me any more books I need and I don't mind coming down for the odd day-trip, if I get really stuck."

"We do find this flat has a stimulating effect on writers," said Mr Halliwell. "My wife really enjoyed the wedding reception, by the way. We received some wedding cake in the post this morning."

"My God," said Doyle, "were you there, too? I never spotted you."

"I'm afraid I met an old friend from Cork," said Mr Halliwell, "and we went into a huddle discussing old times for most of the afternoon. Muriel thoroughly enjoyed the dancing; said it took her back to her youth when she was continually beating off young officers."

Doyle sighed. "I don't think I was ever young," he said. "Bodie is the one who enjoys a knees-up." Not, he thought to himself, that we didn't have a great party of our own later. "Agnes throws a good party," he added.

"Yes," said Mr Halliwell. "It appears that as the young Mrs Coghill will be moving to our part of Shropshire, the Countess has chosen us to ease her into local society. Well, it's a sensible idea and Muriel, having once been a young bride fresh from Ireland herself, will be happy to help. Mr Bodie will be relieved you are going home, he expressed concern about you to me."

"He's an idiot," said Doyle affectionately. "And right, of course. I forget to eat when I'm working. Told him last night I was going home. He rang moaning about the trip, the weather, the horses, the helicopter. Terrible line. I think he said he was sending me some plants. I'm not sure you're allowed to do that without a licence."

"I doubt Mr Bodie would let a trivial fact like that deter him," said Mr Halliwell. "Now, I must be off. Edgar is calling with his new opus. I expect it will be another long, steamy saga set in some South Sea paradise. Oh dear."

oOo

"You can stop going on," said Doyle to his cat. "There is no more dinner for you till you shift some of that weight!"

He had been shocked when collecting his pet from Colonel Heaton's lady to find a pleasantly plump Persian had become an obese one, Alice Heaton being a pushover for a melting green-eyed gaze. Sam, due to happy trips out with the Colonel 'rabbiting', was his customary rakish self.

Amos gave up on the pathetic look and yowls and went to look in Sam's dish. Yuck, only charcoal biscuits. He retired to his basket to sulk.

Doyle grinned and went back to work, carefully averting his eyes from the three seed catalogues temptingly piled up on the sideboard next to a very undistinguished postcard of the Giant's Causeway from Bodie.

Coffee, that's what I need, thought Doyle. Stimulates the brain while rotting the nerve endings.

He made a short but compulsive detour to the bathroom to inspect the jar of cuttings in there: two violet plants and three 'unknowns' having treatment for dehydration. Their accompanying note had been so impregnated with soil and damp that only five words, none of them useful, had been legible.

I must train Bodie how to do that better, he thought, and find out who 'squiggle' is to write and thank him, her, or it! Good, they seem to be picking up. Come on, Doyle, back to work.

He settled down with the coffee and began to unravel a complicated skein of family relationships, sighing with relief when he'd finally sorted it out.

Now, that makes more sense, Doyle. And you need some milk in this. He crossed to the fridge, turning on the radio as he passed. Might get some gardening in later if it's not going to rain - unwind a little.

He listened idly as the announcer said that: "All hope of finding any survivors in the helicopter crash which took place off the west coast of Ireland has now been abandoned. Among those known to be on board were the head of the English showjumping association, Colonel Henry Morris, and Commandant William Bodie, Irish Army, whose team competed here some years ago. Family members have been informed..."

Doyle stood there stunned. There must be some mistake, he thought. He is going to ring tonight. Someone knocking at the side door - they can leave whatever it is ...

Jack came into the room, Agnes close behind him. One look at their faces told him.

"It's not true," said Doyle. "There's been a mistake. He is ringing tonight."

"We have been trying to get in touch," said Jack. "Your phone seems to be off."

Doyle glanced at his phone. As usual when he was working, it was off the hook. "Always do that," he said vaguely, replacing it, "so I won't be disturbed."

"Sit down, Ray," said Jack. "Make us some hot tea would you, love? Drat that phone. No, I'll answer it. Hello, it's you, Charles. Yes. No, Mr Doyle is not available to speak to you or anyone else. If you want to know anything, ring me at the Hall later in the week. I see. Charles, try not to be a bigger bastard than usual." He replaced the phone.

"He won't bother you again," he said to an uncomprehending Doyle, who remembered little of that day afterwards apart from the terrible aching numbness inside. Agnes tried to get him to eat a little, while Jack dealt with people on the phone.

"Young Denis," he said after one conversation. "Wanted to say how sorry he was, and if he could do anything. Decent lad - at Sandhurst - doesn't take after his ghastly parents at all."

"He has Bodie's sword," said Doyle.

The phone went again. "A Mr Halliwell," said Jack. "Would you care to speak to him?"

"No," said Doyle. "Tell him thank you and I'll call him later. Jack, I'm just going to my room a while."

Jack looked after him worriedly. "We had best stay on here, girl," he said to Agnes. "I wouldn't put it past Charles to come sneaking round. He's worried reporters might get wind of the 'relationship'. You know how he is."

"Too well," said Agnes bitterly. "And blight his career, no doubt. If they ever promote Charles past his colonelcy, I'll lose all faith in the British Army. I'd take an axe to him, except living with Winifred is almost sufficient punishment. I still can't believe it myself. I know I often wanted to murder William, but I'm going to miss him awfully." She blew her nose violently.

Jack went on dealing with callers, not in the least surprised, though he imagined Doyle would be, at the people concerned about him. Doyle reappeared, red-eyed and horribly distant. He started for one moment at the news picture of twisted wreckage on a wave-soaked rock and went out into the yard. He found Jos busy rugging up the horses.

"Colder today, Mr Doyle," he remarked. "Now, you stop that, lad," to Piper who was fidgeting about. "I'll feed you soon enough."

"I'll see to Sarah," said Doyle. "She's been rather skittish lately - nipped poor old Flash hard at the weekend."

Jos nodded then went up to the house. He tapped on the kitchen door. "Sir?"

Jack looked up. "Ah, Hesketh, good. I wanted a word with you. You have met Colonel Bodie, haven't you? Yes, thought you had. Now, if he starts sniffing around, get in touch with me at the Hall - and any reporters. Not that I expect any, but ..." He went on giving instructions.

"Right, sir," said Jos. They looked at each other with the perfect confidence of those whose ancestors had fought side by side from Crecy to Worcester. "Damn shame, it is," said Jos. "You can rely on me."

It was after midnight when Doyle was persuaded to go to bed, waving aside the offer of a sleeping pill.

"I'll stay up a while," said Jack. "Call me if you need anything."

Doyle nodded. "Thank you," he said and retired.

Jack settled by the fire, Amos purring on his lap, and had almost nodded off when the phone rang.

"Drat!" he said. "Should have switched it off. Who the hell is on at this hour! Hello, yes, this is Parsons Farm. No, Mr Doyle is asleep; can I take a message?" His expression became more startled as he listened.

"Ballynonty!" he interrupted. "But that's nowhere near Galway. Who am I speaking to? Declan. I see. It's Jack Bicester. And why have you not been in touch before?" he asked in a tone that would have made his vassals, had he any, tremble in their homespun. "I see. Just a moment, I'll get Agnes - you can give her all the details while I wake Mr Doyle. Yes, I'm sure he'll be pleased too."

He quickly roused Agnes. "Declan," he said briefly. "Sort out a plane for Ray." 

Agnes gazed at him in puzzlement then took the phone. "Yes, Declan," she said. "Now let's have the full story." After a few moments a 'look' came over her face. "All I can say, Declan," she remarked, "is that this is absolutely typical of the harebrained, inconsiderate, asinine way you and Will conduct yourselves, and if it wasn't that poor Ray is so broken-hearted, I'd be right over there to break both your necks!"

Jack, meanwhile, was trying to explain to a still befuddled Doyle. "Declan O'Brien on the phone from Tipp," he said when Doyle finally showed signs of understanding. "Will was never on that damned helicopter. At the last minute he decided to have a few days off. He's in Ballynonty Cottage Hospital with a compound fracture of the right leg and four cracked ribs for starters. He was out with the Tipperary Hunt. His horse caught a leg in wire - went down then rolled on him. Dec's Joint Master. You don't know him. Madder than Will - cousin of his."

Jack watched, fascinated, at the expressions crossing Doyle's face: relief, joy, gratitude, rage.

"Why," said Doyle, "has no-one been in touch before?"

"Well," said Jack, "they are the sort who only put the radio on to see what the weather will be like for the horses - the going underfoot. Bodie had swapped his seat and the right number of persons were on board - that sort of thing. We still wouldn't have known if a nurse hadn't recognised Bodie from his picture in The Irish Times, told him, and he got on to Declan in a state."

"I'll give him state," said Doyle, ominously. "I'll kill him! Find out how on earth I can get to Ballynonty."

"I have Agnes working on that already," said Jack happily.

oOo

"You know what I'm really going to enjoy?" said Agnes as, after too few hours' sleep, they were all seated round the breakfast table. "Telling Charles of William's continuing existence. It's really going to annoy him!"

"I insist we toss for the treat later," said Jack, grinning. "And think of Winifred having to cancel the notice in The Times.

"I can drive you to the airport, Ray, if you don't mind trusting me with the Merc," Jack offered. "A pity you can't fly direct, but they said you would have no trouble getting a train from Cork."

"I've heard that before," said Doyle. "I'm hiring a car. Okay, you're on."

"We enjoy watching the planes land and take off," said Jack obscurely.

"You know, Bodie never mentioned a Cousin Declan to me," said Doyle, "and I thought I knew all his bolt-holes by now. You mean every time we had a 'difference' and I threw the Holyhead Sailing Timetable at his head to save him ferreting about for it, that's one of the places he ended up? Always wondered why I sometimes couldn't find him at all."

"Very probably," said Agnes. "You see, the Tipperary Hunt go out four days a week in the season and Declan is the Joint Master. William, not wanting to cause you any annoyance, wouldn't have mentioned that particular refuge."

"Ha!" said Doyle. "I wouldn't have thought even Bodie would want to spend four days a week on a horse. No, I'm wrong - he'd love it. Is there a Mrs O'Brien in this ménage?" he inquired delicately.

"Not all the time," said Agnes. "Only, in fact, for Christmas and Horse Show week. She much prefers to live with their family in Virginia on her estate. Malva came over on holiday years ago and fell madly in love with Declan - at a horse show, of course. He is extremely handsome and looks marvellous on a horse. Six children later it dawned she was saddled with a companion with the mental outlook of a backward five-year-old, and the lack of decent social life in Ballynonty was getting her down. Not that she spent much time there then.

"I have every sympathy for her," Agnes went on, "especially as Declan has the house full of booted riff-raff most of the time drinking the nights away. Don't, whatever you do, accept an invitation to stay at the castle. It's normally a pigsty. I'll ring Oonagh to sort something out for you."

"We'd better be moving," said Jack. "Don't be too hard on Dec. He's got a heart of gold, even if he hasn't much between the ears. But I agree about the castle. People just drop in, kick off their boots and start a week-long party. Malva picks up the big bills - keep telling Dec one day she's going to get fed up with it!"

 

"Fascinatin', ain't it?" said Jack, at the airport. "All these planes taking off for exotic places. Where's that one off to, girl?"

"Glasgow," said Agnes, shortly. "For someone who gets frantic if I suggest we have a couple of days in London, your passion for watching planes take off is very peculiar, Jack!"

Doyle joined them. "I've fixed up to hire a car. Any messages for Bodie - that I can repeat? You'll see Sam and Amos get safely to Alice's, won't you?"

"Of course," said Agnes. "I'll save what I have to say to William till I next see him. Oh God - who has Jack found to speak to now?"

Her spouse had wandered off to the bar and was accosting a perfect stranger.

"I'd better go and keep an eye on him," she went on. "He goes all starry-eyed in these places - invites God-knows-who round for dinner."

"That's my flight," said Doyle. "Thanks." He rushed off.

 

Cousin Oonagh, unlike other members of the Bodie tribe, was not tall and laid back; more short and excitable. She pounced on Doyle as he wearily climbed out of his car at the hospital gates. He was trying to forget his journey from Cork.

"You are Ray, all right!" she said. "You look just like your photograph!"

Doyle decided, for the moment, to accept this as a compliment - but what photograph? "How is Bodie coming on?" he asked.

"He's going to kill himself one day on some damned horse," she announced - quite unnecessarily, in Doyle's opinion. "You are going to have to put your foot down!"

"I've been putting my foot down for eight years now," said Doyle. "Any further and we'll be through the floorboards. I gather he is still with us - in what sort of shape?"

"Considering everything, not too bad," she said. "That Declan O'Brien is with him now. I'd see him off if I were you. He's a bad influence on Will."

Doyle, privately doubting Bodie was in need of a bad influence, muttered vaguely and entered the ward. A tall, incredibly handsome man was leaning negligently on Bodie's bed rail. He gave Doyle an affable wave of the hand.

"I see," said Doyle. He gazed at his partner who was grinning away and trying to look nonchalant, which with a patch over one eye and a cage over his leg, was not easy.

"Aren't you getting a trifle old for this kind of thing, Bodie?" asked Doyle. He then fixed Bodie's companion with a chilling stare. "And you are?" he inquired.

"Declan O'Brien," he replied, with an attempt at charm which faltered under Doyle's stare. "Will's cousin," he babbled. "We haven't met before. Wasn't it a laugh now, you thinkin'..."

"Not," said Doyle, "to me. Now I'm sure you have things to do and I'd like a private word with Bodie here."

Declan, on the receiving end of a Doyle basilisk glare, gulped, waved vaguely at Bodie and left after muttering, "If you need anything, Will..."

"Well," said Bodie, "you are the only one who can terrify him like that - apart from his wife."

"Fool!" said Doyle. "All right, so what's the damage this time?"

"Just the usual compound fracture, couple of cracked ribs, this and that," said Bodie in what he hoped was a placatory tone. Doyle's expression definitely lacked Christian goodwill towards the injured and suffering.

"The patch is only temporary," he added, "while it heals underneath. The eye is fine. They had a poke about to make sure."

Doyle turned slightly green and grabbed an unbandaged hand. "I could kill you," he said. 

A passing nurse glanced over and drew the bed curtains. "You need to rest," she said. "Your friend can stay a while as long as he's quiet."

"Bless you," said Bodie, after her. "Ray, I had no idea what was going on. I told Declan to ring you when I came to in here and knew I was going to be stuck a while. Of course the dozy fool either forgot or thought he'd ring later. Next thing, little Nurse Halligan comes up, peers into my face and asks am I really William Bodie! Assure her that as far as I know, I am. 'Oh,' says she, 'then they have your picture in The Irish Times' and presents me with my obituary. Rotten picture - had my mouth open as usual. I yell for a phone, after assuring them it's absolutely necessary. Your phone doesn't answer, neither does Jack's, and I knew Oonagh was away in Dublin..."

"They were at my place," said Doyle, "helping me cope." He blinked. "Was it a good obit? Always fancied seeing my own even though I know I'll disagree with it."

"Pretty poor, I thought," said Bodie. "Made my life sound extremely dull - always thought it was far too packed with incident myself. Missed you out, too."

"I'm delighted to hear it!" said Doyle, bending to kiss him. "Wish they shaved you. Now, I'm off to see your doctor and get a full report. I'll send Oonagh in to keep you company. God, you do look a mess, Bodie!"

 

Dr Cassidy recited his patient's list of injuries as Doyle listened aghast. "He's been very lucky altogether," he said finally. "Few people survive a fall like that then having a ton of horse roll over on them. But with careful nursing you should have him home in a month or two. Now how long can you keep him off a horse? The longer the better. Mr Bodie's bones have taken a lot of punishment over the years and could do with some respite."

Doyle nodded gloomily. "I'll do my best," he said, "but you know how he is. Had him in here before, haven't you?"

"Either in person or supporting another," said the doctor cheerfully. "Every season we get two or more of that crowd in. Don't worry, Mr Doyle, we get plenty of practice with horse-riding accidents round here."

"Oh, great," said Doyle. "I'll keep in touch. Now I'd better go and see what he needs. That cousin of his didn't strike me as being reliable."

His accommodation was provided by Oonagh, who turned out to be 'squiggle' of the surprise plants and the owner of a large, lush garden. He had immediately turned down Declan's offer of room and board at the castle and having Bodie convalesce there.

"The damn idiot would have Bodie on a horse ten minutes after getting him home," Doyle had remarked to Oonagh.

They had got on famously after he took over the cooking - her enjoyment of the Mrs Beeton rôle was minimal - and in return he was given carte blanche to collect plants from her garden, the gardens of friends, and eventually was guided to several nurseries, a cousin in the Civil Service providing the necessary export licence.

oOo

"Well," said Doyle happily as he visited his slowly mending companion, "my time here hasn't been wasted. I've got some terrific stuff to take home with me. I like your Oonagh even if she can't boil an egg. Is that why her husband spends all his time in the Gobi Desert?"

"No, he's looking for something," said Bodie vaguely. "Can't remember what. Declan's had the hell of a fright, his wife's flying over today. He's cleaning up madly at the castle."

It appeared Mrs O'Brien, having been in receipt of an extremely large bill casually made out to 'estate expenses', was coming over to demand clarification on various points. Bodie later repeated with glee her remark that her grandparents had not fought their way off Ellis Island to have their substance wasted by an imbecile. Doyle, therefore, was startled on his next visit to find Bodie and a tall, commanding lady drinking whiskey together in perfect amiability. She immediately poured him a large double.

"Kentucky Bourbon - that will put hair on your chest, as Will says," she remarked. "You're Ray, then." She looked him over. "I'm Malva O'Brien. How do you stand him?"

Doyle thought of several answers, none of them fitting, then choked over his whiskey. In the ensuing hiatus, as he was patted on the back, the question went unanswered.

"I have just been saying to Will, before you arrived," Malva went on, "I cannot allow matters to continue as they are. By the time Porter finishes university the estate will be worthless. Declan can run the stables and, of course, the Hunt, but I'm putting in a good agent to manage the rest on strictly business lines. And that means a lot more damned hard work from everyone!"

"Good luck," said Bodie, draining his glass. "Well, if anyone can do it, you can."

She got up. "I'm off to Dublin now to see the bank and make arrangements. Happy to meet you at last, Ray. You must come to dinner. It will be edible - I've brought my own cook. Now, Will, as soon as you're fit you must come over to Virginia. I know you want to see the horses and I could put some business your way."

"I almost feel sorry for Declan," said Doyle as he watched her stride out.

"Don't be," said Bodie. "Left to him, the estate would be sold up in a few years. Women like her have saved a lot of Anglo estates. You can bet that when Porter takes over it will be flourishing. She runs one six times the size of Dec's back in Virginia."

"What's the heir like, then?" Doyle inquired, trying to pretend he wasn't holding firmly on to Bodie's hand. "Not one of those wild partying layabouts, is he?"

"Parties enthusiastically when he's over here," said Bodie. "But he rides harder than I do and takes after his mother for sense. He'll probably take over Tipp as well as the estate."

"Just a thought," said Doyle, "but should you be drinking?"

"I'm off the painkillers," said Bodie indignantly. "Doc said it was fine as long as I didn't keep the bottle here. He likes Malva, she paid for their prem. baby unit."

"Good on her," said Doyle. "I'll take that back with me. Oonagh enjoys a nip in the evenings, it helps to keep the appalling damp out! As it's safe to leave you now, I can go home and get the house ready at the end of the week. I'm going to enjoy myself before then."

"Welcome home, am I?" said Bodie, grinning cheerfully.

"Sadly, yes," said Doyle. "You drive me up the wall. I know we will spend the next forty years, God willing, fighting - but I miss the mental stimulation when you're not around. Much as it grieves me to say so. Now, how can I ask a respectable married lady to accompany me for a wild night out in Clonmel?"

"If it's Oonagh, she'll be delighted," said Bodie. "Thomas doesn't believe in spoiling her that way when he's here."

"Of course it's Oonagh," said Doyle. "I'd hardly ask Mrs O'Brien, she scares me rigid - could tell she thought I was a wimp just now."

"She thinks we're all wimps," said Bodie darkly. "She's waiting for the Cossack of her dreams to throw her over his saddle and take her off to his yurt."

"I don't think they live in yurts," said Doyle thoughtfully. "Now, I'm off. Don't do anything daft. I'll see you on Tuesday."

oOo

"What's the matter with you, fidgeting about all the time," asked Doyle with irritation, a few days later.

"Haven't got a knitting-needle on you?" inquired Bodie plaintively. "I'm going mad with the itching under this cast!"

"Good," said Doyle. "Shows it's healing. Leave it alone! We had a grand time," he reminisced, "Oonagh and I. Thé dansant at the poshest hotel in Clonmel, then the theatre with dinner afterwards. Drove home at something a.m. singing all the choruses from the show - never thought I'd find another Gilbert and Sullivan fan. Got stopped by the Garda, as I was speeding, so we gave them a couple of verses of 'Poor Little Buttercup' and they agreed to overlook it. Then I had dinner at Mockbeggar Hall last night. My God! There are bits falling off everywhere. Makes Jack's place seem almost habitable. At least he hasn't got great damp dungeons. When did they last change the curtains - Mafeking Night?"

"It's had bits falling off," said Bodie, "as long as I can remember."

"Meal was very good," said Doyle reminiscently. "I went round to the kitchen and prised some recipes off the cook. Then Malva took me on a tour of the overgrown grounds - kept saying, 'And that's got to be seen to' and making notes in a little black book. She also informed me that if her family had been as feckless as Declan's, they'd still be weaving carpets in Tashkent. I told her she should get in touch with Agnes. Incidentally, how come there's a window missing in the drawing-room? We had a brief passage of arms about why it hadn't been mended since last Christmas. I didn't like to ask what happened, but the damage looked too recent for Cromwell."

"A guest fell through it," said Bodie. "We were carrying him on a chair at the time but as none of us were exactly sober, the precise details escape me. All I remember is poor Guy ending up getting stitched in casualty at 4 a.m. and Dec and I landing up in the local nick. They said it was for our own protection. Gave us a very good breakfast in the morning."

"Don't," said Doyle, "tell me any more. The less you see of that cousin of yours, the better!"

oOo

"That's it then now, is it?" asked Jess as she carefully packed the eggs on the top of Doyle's order. "It must be nice having William home. Going on well, is he?"

"Holding court from the sofa like an oriental potentate," said Doyle. "That reminds me, better give me a slab of that fruit cake to slice for his visitors. We are inundated with them. Great horsey creatures bound through the door, shove a bottle in my hand, then settle by Bodie and tell him about all the dreadful accidents for miles around - the men are as bad. Yesterday now, I thought I'll get down to some weeding. Then this muddy horsebox draws up, equine looking out the back. Woman in a ratty green jersey and scarf round her head inquires if Will's having visitors. Look up from my crouching position and say, Why not - help yourself to tea - then realise that as well as a young fella, she has a copper with her. Oh bugger, I thought - shot into the kitchen just in time to hear her saying in cut glass tones, as Bodie is struggling off the sofa to stand to attention: 'Don't be a bloody fool, Will'.

"Anyway, I served 'em tea and cake all round, then took the young fella off to see my water-meadow, where I'm going to have the pond. Turned out his mum had one dug and gave me the firm's address - said they did a good job - so at least that afternoon wasn't wasted. Herself and Bodie had a lovely chat on warbles and spavins, I gathered. I've left Jack looking after him this afternoon. I know it's like the blind leading the blind but he means well. God, listen to me, I'm going soft, that's what I am."

"You can have tea with Ashley and me then," said Jess. "It's a long time since we've had a good chat. Have you heard about those people who have moved into the Grange? Very funny lot, from what I've heard. He's foreign. And that's not all..."

"No?" said Doyle. "Go on, tell me - I'm all ears."

oOo

"There, that's all the stuff I could find," said Jack, dumping a pile of brochures, leaflets and other ephemera on Bodie's sofa. "And you are going to have to think hard, Will, unless you want to see Agnes and me out sweeping the streets."

Bodie accepted this dramatic picture with some reservation and commenced looking through the pile, after requesting a drink.

"Should you be?" asked Jack cautiously. "I mean, I don't want Ray to start on me when he gets back, I heard him on the phone when I came in. Who was the poor wretch at the other end?"

"Halliwell," said Bodie. "He's used to it. He's coming round tomorrow. As Ray isn't speaking, I'm entertaining him to tea. All these places seem to have some kind of gimmick - an attraction. Surely something must have happened you could use, like Henry II used to meet Fair Rosamund in your grove. We could find their letters..."

"With original stamps and envelopes, I suppose," said Jack. "Come on, Will!"

"Got it!" said Bodie. "The Casket Letters."

"You mean like Portia?" asked Jack vaguely.

Bodie, with a mental somersault, got the inference and then explained, fairly coherently, the current state of belief, i.e. Ray's, on the presumed letters of the Queen of Scots.

"Not doing a book on her, is he?" asked Jack.

"No," said Bodie. "First, it's been done, secondly, he can't make up his mind about her. Being executed by the establishment made her a goodie, but then she was the establishment too, and a papist, so unacceptable to the Doyle pantheon of heroes. I was glad when he decided against her - she was intruding far too much into mealtimes. He's trying to educate me..."

"Doesn't he know you went to Trinity?" asked Jack, startled.

"Of course," said Bodie, "but according to Doyle, only the redbricks, where real people go, do a worthwhile job."

"Very Ray, that," said Jack pensively. "How do you keep your hands off his throat? No, don't tell me. Hope you can think of something. What did you mean about Casket Letters?"

"Just an idea," said Bodie. "Let me work it out, then I'll get on to you. Touch of romance, that's what your place needs."

"Does it?" said Jack. "Oh well, as long as it pays some of the bills. Now, what's all this about very illustrious visitors last week, and the story that Ray found you in the arms of an American millionairess when he got to Ballynonty - and he's going to sue her for alienation of affections?"

"Don't make me laugh, it hurts!" said Bodie. "Here, get a pad, I want to make some notes. Then you can ring Halliwell for me, I can't get to that phone. Some books he can bring down for me - I'm pretty sure he'll have copies to hand."

oOo

"I firmly believe," said Mr Halliwell, "that when I die the name Raymond Doyle will be found engraved on my heart - should anyone be ill-mannered enough to look."

Bodie grinned and passed over a plate of hot muffins. "Help yourself," he said. "I often wonder how many feathers Ray ruffled in the police force."

"Considering his background," said Mr Halliwell, "his disregard for the law of libel is surprising. Have you read that last chapter? It's got to be revised, you know. He cannot make those sort of remarks about a living politician, more's the pity. True or not," he added hurriedly. "Raymond's publisher does not wish the expense of a lengthy libel action which, while good for publicity, would mean withdrawing the book, which would not be good for sales. Besides, think of Raymond in the witness box. You know his views."

"By heart," said Bodie. "I'll have a chat to him. I appreciate you bringing the books down. And persuade him to do a rewrite - put it more subtly, I'll say..."

"Very subtly, if he must," said Mr Halliwell. "I hope you enjoy those books - it's a pity the art of letter writing has declined so much. All you can say for our letters from Andrew is that they are legible - in parts, anyway. Now, here are some more books for you to review, and a couple of manuscripts we are considering. I'm afraid Edgar's latest is in there somewhere. The usual thing, sex and sadism in the South Seas. I wish he'd change the locale at least. It's enough to put you off foreign travel - not that Edgar has ever done any, apart from a day-trip to Boulogne once. He didn't take to the food. Just as a matter of interest, was that a JCB I saw going down your field?"

"It was," said Bodie, "and that's where Ray is now, harassing the driver. He's having a large pond excavated in the water-meadow. It was going to be a small lily pond, then he saw this garden programme - some gardening guru called Lloyd has this fine horse-pond. 'That's what I want', said Ray. 'Yes,' I said, 'be fine for the gee-gees.' He went up the wall, giving me to understand not a hoof was to go near it. Next thing I know, he's getting it all organised - happy as a sandboy."

"All is explained," said Mr Halliwell. "Now, can you persuade him to attend a literary lunch this weekend? It would be really helpful if he were there."

"Leave it to me," said Bodie, poring over a manuscript. He stopped. "Now what would you like me to say about this bugger?" he remarked.

Mr Halliwell winced from the page thrust before him. "I'll leave that to your impeccable taste, Mr Bodie," he said. "Just remember, it is written by the publisher's nephew and we want to let him down lightly, but not so lightly that he submits another manuscript - of that quality anyway."

oOo

"No!" said Doyle the next day. "Out of the question. I cannot leave Bodie over the weekend. He needs constant attention."

"I do not!" said an indignant voice from the sofa.

"Shut up," hissed Doyle. "Sorry, Halliwell, what were you saying? No, I can't find anyone - he is too old and awful for a babysitter."

"Bodie-sitter," said the voice happily. "Oh, go on. Give Alec my love and tell him you'll catch the early train and have a great weekend."

"I'll do no such thing!" said Doyle. "Sorry, Halliwell, it's Bodie being frivolous. Look, I'll get back to you."

He walked over to the sofa. "Rotten sod," he said affectionately. "You know I'd just worry about you all the time I was down there."

"You could ask Amy over to mind me," said Bodie, grinning.

"Well, I could," said Doyle, "but I don't think you're up to her at the moment."

"Swine," said Bodie. "Isn't it time to rug up the lads?"

"Damn - yes," said Doyle, hurrying out.

Bodie made his way carefully to the phone and dialled his brother-in-law. "Jack, listen, can you...? Good."

 

Doyle listened with some surprise and a little suspicion to Jack's offer to mind his charge over the weekend. Agnes, though delighted to have her brother alive and in one piece, still regarded him as a family disaster and prone to luring her husband into mischief.

"And you definitely won't let him get on a horse, or even go near the stables?" Doyle insisted again. "And no drinking. Well, maybe a small one at bedtime - and see he takes his pills. I'll leave you my address and phone number."

Jack assured him, again, that Bodie would be treated like especially delicate china and that Agnes would be away in Shropshire all weekend, staying with the young Mrs Coghill.

"Needs a woman round her at the moment, y'know. Bessie and cook will be delighted to look after William for you. They think the world of him."

"All right," said Doyle. "He'll probably enjoy a change of sofa."

Next morning Bodie was deposited at the Hall, Doyle once again running through full instructions before he set off.

"And it's not even as though I want to go to bloody London," was his departing shot.

Jack steered his brother-in-law carefully to the library with its commodious sofa and threw another log on the fire, then poured them both a small whisky.

"Right, what have you got then, Will?" he said.

Bodie carefully removed a sheaf of paper from his poacher's pocket. "Just brought a sample - to see what you thought," he said. "Some verse at the back."

Jack read a few pages and then looked at him in awe. "Never thought you were a love-letters man, Will," he said. "You'll have 'em crying their eyes out - or getting hot flushes reading this stuff. How did you do it?"

Bodie shuffled and went slightly pink. "Oh, just thought of a few things," he said. "Everyone loves a romance, even better when it doesn't work out. You can't beat an unhappy ending. It's always a bit of a let-down - lived happily ever after."

"Not to me," said Jack. "Now how are we going to set this up properly?"

"We need to make a tasteful selection," said Bodie. "Let some details leak out, whet people's appetite. And we need to have something exciting in the grounds. I'm working on that. Thought I'd rope Ray in when the time is right - and his mood. Also, Captain James Bodie needs more 'body'. We could ask Bessie who was around at the time, so he can casually refer to them in his letters. She's well up on the times. Ray is always on about places and dates - lends authenticity, he says. Now we mustn't have anyone in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's been very helpful, has Ray - not that he knows it, of course."

"It's alarming, this talent you've suddenly discovered for intrigue, Will," said Jack, grinning.

"Now," said Bodie, "we need some authentic-looking paper and someone to do the copying in the writing of the time, so they will look good in the glass cases in your hall. Those stuffed birds are ready for burial anyway."

"Thank God," said Jack. "I've been going mad, wondering how to get rid of them. Don't worry about the paper. I'll have a hunt in the Muniment Room, and Bessie can write them for us. She's a whiz at that calligraphy thing. Bodie, what will we do with the stuffed birds?"

"Bonfire!" said Bodie. "Give the poor buggers a Viking funeral. What Muniment Room?"

"Gunroom, actually," said Jack. "Stacks of old books in the cupboards there. We can take out the occasional flyleaf - shouldn't think Captain James had a quire of vellum with him."

"Now you're getting the idea!" said Bodie. "We must improvise and find out how he could get the letters here, too. Now let's go and see Bessie - and pick out our heroine."

Bessie seemed delighted to be co-opted and joined them on a tour of the picture gallery. A row of badly painted Fanshaws and their kin looked back in dough-faced complacency. Bodie finally paused.

"This one," he said. "Looks a shade more spiritual than the rest. She'll do fine."

"Don't see how you can tell through the grime," said Jack. "They all need cleaning. Can't afford it, of course."

"Ray knows someone who will do this one for us," said Bodie. "I'll put it to him when the time is right. Pity we couldn't have James hanged locally, buried on the estate, and her weeping over his grave in secret. Would make a lovely touch. What about that stone by the lodge - looks like a gravestone. Who knows what is underneath?"

"I do," said Jack. "It's a septic tank. The stone used to be over Great-Uncle Edwin's hunter, Derville. Don't get too fancy, Will. Plenty of people remember the trouble we had burying that damned horse. Who are we going to get to print out the booklet? Has to look good to have 'em pouring in with their hankies - and be cheap at the price."

"Let me think about that," said Bodie with confidence.

"We," said Bessie, "are now going down for tea, and Will is getting off that leg or I shall inform on you both to Ray!"

oOo

An unaccustomed air of tranquillity hung over the kitchen at Parsons Farm. Bodie was carefully counting the lines of his poem while munching a large sandwich; Ray, feet against the oven, struggled with a weighty historical tome. There was a pleasant fug in the air, composed of drying socks and a pan of stew and dumplings simmering away on the Aga.

Doyle sighed and put down his book. "What are you doing?" he inquired.

"Just finishing my sonnet," said Bodie truthfully.

This was greeted with a snort of amusement. "I thought you were writing a review of Edgar's latest," said Doyle.

"I was. Couldn't think of a decent way of saying that even in a grass skirt or sarong many of the positions he describes are either impossible or downright dangerous. Pity he ever discovered sex. How are you getting on?"

"I'm sick of this book," said Doyle. "Not only does it make the twelfth century boring - no mean feat - but it's full of bad proofreading or misprints. Listen to this about William Marshal: 'He was a very handsome man distinguished by a very large crutch, a sign of beauty to the horse-riding aristocracy of the middle ages.' Doesn't make sense - sounds like Tiny Tim. But what do they mean?"

"It's not a misprint," said Bodie, after a pause. "More a convention not to shock a casual reader."

Their eyes locked.

"Ohhhh," said Doyle. "You mean..." He began to stutter.

"That's right," said Bodie. His eyes drifted down Doyle's body.

"You cut that out!" said Doyle. "Disgraceful, what you find in decent history books these days. Anyway, I would have thought a large crutch more of a handicap myself."

"I've never found..." Bodie began, then deftly caught the book flung at him.

"You're getting better at that," said Doyle cheerfully. "Oh hell, is that Colonel Heaton hooting away? I'd better head him off before he starts telling me about his great mole campaign again. It's criminal, what he's doing to the poor beasts."

"They were winning last I heard," said Bodie. "Look, why don't you come over? You'll soon pick the game up and they are a very friendly crowd."

"No," said Doyle. "You know me - if my partner led wrong I'd probably kill them. Who is your partner today then? Afternoon, Colonel, he won't be long."

"Oh, just Amy," said Bodie vaguely. "She's staying at the vicarage at the moment. Her mother is laid up and Amy thought she'd come over and jolly her along, get her on her feet again."

"Poor Nettie!" said Doyle. "She was probably counting on a good rest - the vicar has her trotting round the parish till all hours chivvying the faithful. Trust Amy to spoil it for her. Oh well, just see she keeps her mind on the cards. Who's bringing you back?"

"Amy said she would," said Bodie. "I'll send regards to her mum from you."

"I'll do that myself," said Doyle, "and pick you up. I'm not having that harpy with you at her mercy in that minute car. Six o'clock all right?"

"Should be," said Bodie. "Oh, Jack might be ringing. Would you take the message for me?"

"Right," said Doyle, steering him carefully in the direction of Colonel Heaton who was inspecting the large 'pool' excavation with interest. "Here he is, Colonel. I'll collect him round six. No, it isn't going to be a swimming-pool. Tell Alice I'll see her about the plants on Wednesday."

He waved them off with relief and returned reluctantly to his writing. Never knew Bodie wrote poetry. Oh well...

The phone went.

"Hello, Jack," said Doyle. "Of course you're disturbing me! No, Will has just left. Bridge at Colonel Heaton's. All right, what's the message? Desktop publishing. Mrs Perkins' Gladys, you mean, at the butcher's? I'll tell him." He replaced the phone and sighed. Better get my head down before anyone else rings. Desktop publishing?

oOo

"Hello, Amos," said Mr Halliwell, "you look very well. Is your master in?"

As Amos did not deign to reply, he tapped at the side door knowing full well it was no good banging on the official front one. No answer. Garden, he thought, it being early summer, then crossing the yard, heard a familiar murmuring from the stables.

"Good morning, Mr Bodie," he said, noting with approval his vastly improved appearance.

Bodie paused from talking to his horse and grinned. "And it's a grand one," he said. "Ray went down to the village to pick up some groceries with Sarah. He'll be back presently. Fancy a cup of tea?"

"Always," said Mr Halliwell. "The garden is looking very well, even better than last year, I think."

"We are opening with the village next month for the National Gardens Scheme," said Bodie. "Be sure you go down and see Ray's pond while you are here."

Mr Halliwell shortened his stride to match Bodie's now slower pace. "You're looking much better too," he said truthfully.

"Coming on," said Bodie. "I took Flash out yesterday - he's a smoother ride than my old fella. Felt fine. Is it true a film company want to do Ray's murder mystery?"

"It is," said Mr Halliwell. "I've come down to discuss that, how the book is going, and also because I fancied getting away from my office. Lady Sligo wishes to be remembered to you and will be visiting Agnes next month. She came to tea at the weekend with young Venus. The dear girl seems very happy."

"Anyone getting away from Giles Burke is happy," said Bodie. "Here we are. Now where has Ray hidden the whisky?"

They were comfortably settled with mugs of tea and several slabs of cake apiece discussing horses, books and life when there was a clatter of hooves in the yard.

Doyle entered. "Might have known," he said. "Stuffing yourselves as usual." He took a sip of tea. "Yuck - stewed. Make fresh for me while I unpack Sarah. Wonderful trolley basket she makes - people press veggies on me as a bribe to pet her."

Mr Halliwell went out and presented Doyle with a large red apple. "Present from Polly," he said. "When she heard I was visiting you, she insisted I brought this for Sarah, and says thank you for the autographed photo of her."

"She's in great demand," said Doyle. "Has quite a fan club after her appearance at the vicarage fête. With luck she'll keep Bodie and me in vegetables in our old age. Which reminds me..."

He headed back into the kitchen while Mr Halliwell patted Sarah and passed on all the news from Polly. He could hear some disputation from the kitchen. When he re-entered, Bodie had left.

"He's having a lie down," said Doyle. "Doctor's orders. I'm being the heavy at the moment insisting on him doing it."

"He does look much better," said Mr Halliwell. "He mentioned he had been out on a horse again."

"Didn't say he was grey when he came back, I bet," said Doyle. "He is coming along, but you know Bodie - I'm not having him start rushing about and put himself back being stupid. He told me he was packing in most of his hunting. Thought light had dawned but it turns out he's paying towards young Miranda's school fees. As she's the only one in that family with a brain, he thought it was a pity she wasn't getting a better education. He doesn't know I've found that out, by the way."

"Ah," said Mr Halliwell. "I don't know this watercolour of the house, do I? Not Mr Bodie, I know his style."

"Young Denis," said Doyle. "Came over to see us when I got Bodie back from Ireland, and started painting with him one weekend. Did that for my birthday. I always wanted a good one of the house. He's a nice lad - pretty talented, too. Wants to take it up full time when he gets out of the army. He didn't get in touch before in case I was offended. I'd no idea people found me so terrifying. Ashley and Miranda never seem to be bothered."

Mr Halliwell cleared his throat and tried to look noncommittal.

"All right," said Doyle, "but you know I don't mean half of it - most of the time. You'd better look over the work so far. I'm up to chapter twelve now - it's like rolling that damned boulder uphill. And I don't think you are going to like it. Bodie doesn't. I'm not entirely happy myself."

"I see," said Mr Halliwell. "I'll just read it through then. No need for you to stay."

"Meaning shove off and stop breathing down my neck," said Doyle. "I'll go and potter in the garden."

After ten minutes he was back in the kitchen. Mr Halliwell gave him a look over his spectacles so he went into the parlour. Bodie was stretched out on the sofa looking through a seed catalogue.

"You've got two hundred and twelve items marked up so far," he said. "Do you really want a grove of twelve-foot bamboo?"

"That's my wishful thinking list," said Doyle. "They'll come down to about twenty-five -in that catalogue anyway. How's your good self then?"

"Bored," said Bodie. "Can I have a drink for being a good lad?"

"I think we both deserve a small one," said Doyle, unlocking the cupboard. "Halliwell's going through my deathless prose out there with a cheesy look on his face which means, 'You know, Doyle, I think chapter twelve could do with a little more work' - and don't say I told you so."

"I told you so," said Bodie. "You were in a shocking mood when you wrote that. But I was delighted when you yelled at me - felt I was really home at last."

"Liar!" said Doyle affectionately. "Did you get through those manuscripts he left with you?"

"I did," said Bodie. "And filled in my opinions on the sheet provided, except for that one which I thought merited a further page from me."

Doyle picked up the sheet and started to read. "My God," he said, "let's hope the author never reads this. I liked The Secret of Hags Nook, myself."

"It only had five errors of fact in the first eight pages," said Bodie austerely. "Ray, have we the room for twelve Chinese oaks?"

"No," said Doyle, "but I rather liked the sound of them. Ah, that's Halliwell tapping discreetly."

"Wish there was some reason for his discretion," said Bodie sadly.

"Ahh... Perk up, chuck! I'll give your back a good rub tonight," comforted Doyle. "Better go and hear the dread verdict."

"Before you say anything..." Doyle began as he entered the kitchen.

"Chapter twelve," said Mr Halliwell. "Written under a degree of strain, I would say."

"Yes," said Doyle. "I'd just flung a boot at my better half. We had a difference of opinion on my interpretation of the facts as presented. Bodie took an opposing view. All right, I'll rewrite. I had second thoughts myself. Now, here are the manuscripts you left with Bodie, and his comments. I rather liked the one on Ethelred the Unready, myself - especially the Anglo-Saxon dialogue. Bodie kept muttering darkly, then ringing an erudite friend."

"I agree that book does have some very risible moments," said Mr Halliwell. "Now, as you may have read in the press - most of it was not correct - we have had an offer for your detective story. They would like to make it into a film. It's a good offer."

"From whom?" said Doyle suspiciously. "I watched Riders with Bodie. I had to turn it off - was afraid he'd damage his ribs some more, he was laughing so much. I just happened to have read that book. It's a long story, you wouldn't believe it. Wouldn't want my book murdered like that."

"Oh no," said Mr Halliwell. "I understand they wish the proper period feel and everything. They did inquire if you would consider writing the screenplay, but I wouldn't advise it. Remember the BBC?"

"Quite," said Doyle. "Still think they were unreasonable. And I won't have to watch it. All right, let me know what they are offering and I'll consider it. Nice lump of cash would be very handy - there are a couple of things I'd like for my garden."

"Good," said Mr Halliwell, "I'll send you the full details. We are still working on the finer points. What's been happening round here, then? I picked up the brochure about Lord Bicester opening his house to the public, Muriel and I must come round to see it. Have you seen it, Mr Doyle? It's a delightful booklet. Mrs Bleavins gave me a copy when I picked up some of her excellent cheese." He passed it to Doyle.

Doyle picked up the brochure and began to read. "Fancy that now," he said. "I must ask Bodie about this."

Bodie entered the kitchen. "Thought I'd have a trot down to the stable," he said.

"Don't even think it," said Doyle with menace. "You've trotted enough today. I'm just going to put our dinner on the table and then we can have a nice chat."

"Oh," said Bodie, catching sight of the booklet.

As Mr Halliwell was a dinner guest, having come prepared with a decent bottle of wine, nothing further was said till Doyle waved him off towards his home.

"Now," he said as they settled in front of the Aga, "let's start at the beginning, Bodie. Why are you forging love-letters for profit? And take that innocent choirboy look off your face - I've seen it far too often over the years when you've done something awful."

"It's for a very good cause," said Bodie virtuously. "To keep the roof over the head of my poor destitute sister and her fatherless brats. Not to mention Bessie and the gee-gees. How did you guess?"

"A touching phrase in that long letter extract is one you often whisper in my ear," said Doyle. "I remember it, as it's one of the few sweet nothings you use to me I can actually understand! When did Jack expire?"

"Figure of speech," said Bodie. "I think that's rather nice you remembered. Ray, could you design a knot garden for us? We have the perfect space for it where the tennis court was. I know you've been looking them up, and I said to Jack, As soon as the right moment occurs, I'll ask Ray. He's a good sport and will want to help."

Doyle tried to look outraged, gazed into blazing blue eyes, sighed, got up and poured himself a drink and, after a plaintive murmur from Bodie, one for him too.

"How," said Doyle, "did this all start? And please don't go into the plight of the over-privileged...again."

"When I was convalescent," said Bodie. "We had been thinking of ways to make money - short of highway robbery - and Jack found this leaflet. A family in the New Forest area - they have a small manor and need funds. Well, they claimed that a secret deed-box had been found in the house containing marriage lines and love-letters handed down through the family. Apparently a General Garth, distantly connected, secretly married one of the daughters of George III. They had a son, all hushed up, but he used to go round and see his poor old mother, blackmailing her. No way to behave. Still, what could you expect from a Hanoverian?" This was said with all the hauteur of one descended from Irish kings and Norman freebooters. "So I thought what Jack's place needed was a touch of romance - never got attacked in the Civil War, they probably thought it wasn't worth the effort. Trouble is, the Fanshaws have always been an incredibly boring family, even in their love lives, so I had to improvise."

"Of course," said Doyle. "Naturally. And so?"

"Took a look round the portrait gallery," said Bodie. "Awful paintings. Then found Emily - she has a very sweet face. Didn't marry, ran away to France and became a nun after her sweetheart was executed in the Civil War."

"Indeed," said Doyle. "Well, who was her Romeo?"

"Distant relative of mine," said Bodie. "Captain James Bodie, executed by Cromwell's troops in Ireland. He didn't leave any legitimate descendants, so that's safe enough."

"Ah," said Doyle. "I have to agree, he does write an affecting letter."

"Thank you," said Bodie modestly. "His poetry isn't bad either. Ray, you remember the lady who cleaned up Sir William for you? Do you think she would take a crack at Emily? She's rather on the grubby side - can't meet her public with a grimy frock."

"Who will be paying her?" asked Doyle. "She isn't cheap, you know."

"Bessie will be happy to," said Bodie. "She is really enjoying herself doing the fair copies on the right paper for us."

"Right paper!" said Doyle. "I know I'm going to regret this but let me see what you have written. Why the Civil War? Thought the Regency was more your period."

"No," said Bodie. "Not romantic enough - too shallow. We wanted something with real feeling - not gilded popinjays at Brighton. Besides, you had me doing all that research when you were considering the book on the Sealed Knot, remember? You see, it wasn't wasted."

"When we had that mild disagreement on Cromwell," said Doyle reminiscently, "you stormed out and I didn't hear anything for a month. I suppose you were in Tipp?"

"Probably," said Bodie cautiously. "I'll just get you my copies."

Doyle read a while. "Very good," he said finally. "A touch of the Sir William Temples here and there, and you've resisted the urge to have anyone say, 'Look, there's old Nol and isn't that John Hampden with him?'"

"I liked his style," said Bodie. "And we have some genuine Fanshaw letters - none of them met anyone important either, just moaned on about the weather and worrying if they were getting the crops in at home, and whether Betsy ought to marry that young man or should they hang out for a better offer. They are all as boring as Jack's letters would be if he ever wrote any."

"What really happened to poor Emily?" asked Doyle finally, after blowing his nose hard.

"Nothing much," said Bodie. "She settled down in her convent, became Mother Superior and outlived all her family, dying in France at eighty-six. But we felt an early death more appropriate - you know, pining away?"

"I do admire this flippant disregard you show for inconvenient facts, Bodie. Why the hell doesn't Jack sell any old letters he has?"

"Who would want them?" said Bodie. "They are not interesting. Anyway, would you sell your great etc. grandfather's letters?"

"I doubt the old bastard could write," said Doyle. "I'm just trying to work out if you are actually committing a felony!"

oOo

Next morning Doyle rang Mr Halliwell and recounted the appalling activities of his companion to a very appreciative pair of ears.

"And it's no good laughing," said Doyle indignantly. "He could go to jail!"

"Rubbish," said Mr Halliwell. "He's just gone in for a little historical licence. You could call it romancing, at the most."

"I'd prefer to call it lying," said Doyle. "Lulled into a false sense of security thinking Good, he's off a horse at last, can't get into trouble..."

"It's always a danger when someone with William's energy finds time on their hands," said Mr Halliwell sagely. "You'll just have to insist he keeps his imagination within bounds. He is an Irishman, remember."

"Don't I know it," said Doyle gloomily. "And now I'm getting pestered for information on how to build a knot garden in a month. It's bloody impossible!"

"I'm sure you're really enjoying every moment of it," said Mr Halliwell with scant sympathy. "How is your horse-pond coming on?"

Happily diverted, Doyle gave him a blow-by-blow account then, feeling cheered, rang off. To hell with 'em, he thought. Casket Letters, my eye. Hang on...

He sat down and pondered a while then put a call through to Professor Philip Higgins, Trinity College, Dublin.

"Phil, that you? Doyle. Listen, could you come over a few days early, before you go to that seminar at - what is it? - Oxford/Cambridge - one of those places. Oh, it is, is it. Well, we've had something in your line turn up down here. Letters - could be of interest to you. Your period, sort of 'rescue mission'. Yes, they are in danger - from infidels. No, you don't have to go out on a horse with Bodie. Yeah, he's coming on. I'll tell you all when I see you - devil finding work and all that stuff..."

He mentioned the early arrival of their visitor to Bodie as they prepared dinner together.

"Why?" asked Bodie. "I like Phil, but he doesn't ride these days and he never was a country boy."

"Point in his favour," said Doyle. "I'm thinking of having a passionate affair with him. Would you mind?"

"Not really," said Bodie. "Take some of the strain off me, that would." He went on chopping onions, unconcerned.

"I see," said Doyle. "You could at least act jealous - it's hurtful. Wonder if I've missed anything never having had a passionate affair. Just never had the time."

Bodie, now slicing kidneys into the pan, shook his head. "What about ours?" he said reasonably. "We might not have been Romeo and Juliet, thank God, but we have had our moments. Usually when I'm covered in Deep Heat or embrocation. I often think it's a turn- on for you."

"Don't be disgusting," said Doyle. "Here, let me have a stir at that - you set the table. Can't get romantic about a fella who wears three jerseys, two pairs of socks, and in the evening just grunts at me over the pages of Horse & Hound."

 

"You never did tell me," said Doyle as they ate later, "how Gladys comes to do desktop publishing. She's that big, cheery girl who'll knock hell out of a steak for you in the butcher's, isn't she?"

"That's the one," said Bodie. "Seems she runs a fan club and does her newsletters on it and stuff for the shops - leaflets, that sort of thing. Explained it all to me. She was surprised you didn't go in for it, too."

"Fan club?" questioned Doyle. "Like the Angela Thirkell Circle or Star Trek?"

"Didn't ask," said Bodie. "Could be Friends of H.P.Lovecraft - he's got quite a following."

Doyle stared at him in amazement. "He does? Where? And you've never read him!"

"In America," said Bodie. "I have, too. When I'd read everything in the hospital library, such as it was, and was going mad, Dec brought me in this load of Weird Tales. A friend of Porter's is mad on them - likes to keep a spare set at the castle for when he visits so he can get his usual fix. He wears a sweater with Miskatonic University on the front and goes into bookshops asking for a volume by some mad Arab."

"Takes all sorts," said Doyle. "Mad, is he?"

"Very," said Bodie. "Dead set on being a stockbroker like his father and he has a really good seat on a horse. I quite enjoyed them - a good laugh if you transpose the action here and imagine a great one-footed thing going squelch down Potters Lane."

"It certainly would," said Doyle sourly. "I had my wellie sucked off there last week - felt a real berk standing there heaving away in one wellie and a muddy sock too filthy to put back in the boot so I left it there to compost. 

"I forgot to tell you - Marion rang. She and Agnes toured the picture gallery and she's arranged to have two taken back to London for cleaning. Emily and one she thought was better than the others. The rest, she said, were better left with the grime on - gave them an intriguing air of mystery. She will be here for tea tomorrow so I want you shaved and in your right mind."

"Bridge tomorrow," said Bodie. "I'll be back in time for tea."

"Oh, goodie!" said Doyle. "Just when I was hoping to make a good impression. Well, I can't leave here, Colonel Heaton will have to bring you home."

oOo

Next afternoon, Doyle had just started his tour of the garden - Professor Higgins and Marion having trotted off for a walk down to the village - when he heard the colonel's extremely rattly car arrive. He got up the garden in time to see Bodie disappearing stable-wards and paused to bid the colonel good day.

"Heard you are having problems with the knot garden," he remarked. "No time to grow anything - any idea what's needed?"

"Well," said Doyle, "the Jacobeans did use stones, odds and ends and anything that was coloured - terrible colour sense. We could fudge something up that way. It's the scale that's bothering me and what to have - can't be pretty-pretty."

"What about a coat of arms?" said Colonel Heaton briskly. "Suit the place. Big showy one. That nephew of Bodie's at Sandhurst - he draws, doesn't he?"

"Denis?" said Doyle. "Yes, he does. But he isn't due for any leave at the moment. I could ask him to sketch one out for us, I suppose."

"Good," said the colonel. "Don't worry about his leave, I'll get on to old Buffy right away and arrange that. John will be home next weekend, he can help scale it up, and Bodie too, of course. He needs some employment - he's not himself yet. Led wrongly twice this afternoon, not like him at all. Now, can I use your phone - catch Buffy before he's got too many drinks under his belt."

"Feel free," said Doyle weakly. "I'll go and see what Bodie is doing, then we will all have a couple of drinks."

He found Bodie casually skimming small pebbles across the now-filled pond.

"And you can stop that!" said Doyle. "You just might brain a newt!"

Bodie peered into the still murky depths. "Arrived sharpish, haven't they?" he remarked.

"Via several zinc buckets," said Doyle. "I heard they were draining this pond in Lower Gretton, so alerted Ashley and some of his mates and we all went down there with our shrimping nets to rescue anything interesting. Some really weird things came up. You might find your van a little smelly, I wasn't going to transport buckets of pond water in the Merc."

"Of course not," said Bodie. "I don't suppose I'll notice. I think Phil's been instantly smitten with Marion. It's that gorgeous red hair. You're not playing Cupid, are you?"

"Of course not," said Doyle. "He's not married or strange, is he?"

"No to both," said Bodie. "Just never seems to get his head out of the seventeenth century. They could suit each other. I've told Jack on no account to burn anything till Phil's had a look at it. He's already getting cold feet at the thought of Agnes's reaction when she sees the birds have gone."

oOo

Next day, after a cursory glance at the letters, Professor Higgins set to, grim-faced, remarking to Doyle in the evening that it had been a mercy he had been called in.

"I find the earl's attitude very irresponsible. I tried to explain their importance, but his attention tends to wander."

"Doesn't it just," said Doyle. "Look, if you're going to make an offer wait till Agnes is home. It will save a lot of wear and tear on your nerves."

oOo

That weekend they were invaded by six officer cadets, young Denis clutching a magnificent coat of arms, including the royal unicorn, presently joined by Colonel Heaton, his very taciturn son John, of the Royal Engineers, and Bodie. Then they all started to converse in a sort of verbal military shorthand, and Doyle thankfully left them to it.

oOo

 

"I came home," said Agnes, two days later, "expecting to be able to relax in peace and quiet and find ten officer cadets, William, Major Heaton, young Denis, my mother-in-law in dungarees and sundry riff-raff tearing up the remains of the tennis court and informing me casually they are constructing a knot garden there. Also that I can expect Miss Medlycott from the village school with classes three and four round on Friday with their coloured pebbles. No doubt also expecting tea and buns. I hardly liked to mention this was the first I'd heard of it. We are also opening to the public shortly, and the five cases of stuffed birds I left in the hall have all disappeared. What do you know about this, Ray? Jack is being very evasive."

"Perhaps they flew away," said Doyle madly. "You could try asking Jack or Bodie again. I'm terribly busy."

"They have all disappeared to the Brewers," said Agnes. "I know when you are lying, Ray..."

oOo

High summer brought the garden open days.

"I must remember to shut Amos up this time," said Doyle worriedly. "I'm not having him loose in the garden. If you hadn't been so quick spotting that woman stuffing him under her coat yesterday, the poor love would have been a pair of gloves by now."

"She would have been sorry," said Bodie, carefully picking white fluff off his jacket. "Anyway, he was yelling so loud everyone could hear he was being catnapped. She said she was just taking him to see her Rolls."

"He wouldn't have been impressed," said Doyle. "He sees my Merc every day and sits on it in the sun - I wish he wouldn't. You are planning to shave today, I hope?"

"Why?" asked Bodie. "You won't need me for anything. I was planning to..."

"Forget it!" said Doyle. "I need you on the plant stall. It's no good me standing there - I terrify people. Besides, I need to patrol and keep an eye on things. They just take one look into your big blue eyes and go all weak at the knees - I hope. Think of all those poor arthritic old gardeners. You'll be doing it for them - bringing sunshine into their lonely lives..."

"All right!" said Bodie. "Put the violin away. Most of the old gardeners I meet are spryer than I am at the moment. Where do you want the horses this time?"

"Paddock," said Doyle. "I nearly thumped Flash when he ate that bouquet, and Sarah's too fond of cadging sugar. They are better there anyway. We don't have to keep dashing to the stables to make sure they haven't been rustled!"

 

"Ah, there you are, Doyle," said Colonel Heaton. "Come right through to the conservatory. We are having drinks there until dinner is ready."

"Bodie will be along in a moment," said Doyle. "He's just settling the horses back with Jos. Went well, didn't it?"

"Very," said Colonel Heaton, passing round glasses of sherry. "I have just heard from the vicar that our visitors have been far in excess of those for Lower Gretton last weekend."

"Naturally," said Doyle. "How they won the best kept village last year, only God knows."

"Friends in High Places," said Bodie, who had arrived a couple of minutes before with Jos. He accepted his glass. "Who just happen to live nearby."

"Really?" said Doyle. "All safely locked up?" He nodded to Mrs Bleavins, who joined them.

"It's to be hoped Lord Bicester does as well when he opens next month," said Jess. "That knot garden looks really...well...splendid, isn't it? I went to see it with Ashley and the schoolchildren. They are really thrilled with it now - especially that unicorn. Little Alice Perkins was showing everyone just where her stones are."

"Your John did a good job there," said Doyle to Colonel Heaton. "It's splendidly garish - just like they were, I should think."

"He thoroughly enjoyed himself," said the colonel. "My grandchildren are dying to see it, too, when they come over. As I understand there is still room for more stones, they will be bringing a collection of their own. I forgot, Doyle, you haven't seen our conservatory before, have you? The children gave it to Alice and me on our anniversary."

"I think it's splendid," said Doyle looking about. "Could do with something like this myself."

Bodie helped himself to another glass of sherry, and poked Oscar, the extremely fat cat sitting on the table.

"Wonder if it's true he runs on castors," said Doyle. "I've never seen him up on his paws yet. You know, I'd love one of these conservatories, Bodie. Get my computer set up in there, some heating in. Now I've got that big cheque from Halliwell..."

"We could do with a tack room attached to the stables, too," said Bodie hopefully. "You're always saying you're fed up with falling over my boots and saddle etc. Phil rang up just before I left - he sounded mildly excited for him. He's engaged to Marion."

"Oh God," said Doyle, "another pressie to buy. No, Bodie, those horses absorb enough money as it is. What was that letter from Tipp you had? I like to know the worst."

"Just an invite to spend Horse Show week at the Gresham all expenses paid," said Bodie happily. "Malva is taking a floor over and wants me to keep an eye on her bratlings. You are invited."

"No!" said Doyle. "You know what it's like there Horse Show week - debauchery run rampant."

Bodie nodded happily.

"Listen," said Doyle, "I'll need planning permission. Who do you know on the County Council or whoever? 'Bout time you put a good word in for me."

"When we got the stables extended at Jack's you said it was deplorable to ask for favours from the over-privileged," said Bodie smugly. " Now, about my tack room and Dublin?"

"Bodie!"

"That's Alice, ringing the bell," said Colonel Heaton. "Shall we all go in for dinner?"

"Of course," said Bodie as they went in to dinner, "with the right persuasion I could have a quiet word with the duke."

"Lousy, conniving swine," said Doyle. "You wait till later."

 

THE END


End file.
